Tricks, Tasers, and Tony
by Ell Roche
Summary: In which Loki, Darcy, and Tony defy all definitions of the word 'normal'. A ficlet collection.
1. In Which Clint Doesn't Have An Accident

**1. Phil Coulson/Darcy Lewis**

Clint Barton ducked his head to avoid the furious look in Agent Coulson's eyes. This wasn't how he had planned his evening. There should've been a lot less Coulson, and a lot more of Darcy Lewis's bare skin. "If I said it was an accident, would you believe me?"

Coulson's eyes trailed over Clint's body. He was covered in dust and plaster, which was splayed across the floor around him. "You fell through the ceiling over my fiancée's apartment, Agent Barton. That wasn't an accident."

"All right, so it wasn't an accident," Clint muttered. He hated being caught out by Coulson. Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time his handler had been this upset with him. Though he tried to hide it, and succeeded on occasion, Coulson usually smiled at his many escapades. It wasn't often that he was truly disapproving. "But I didn't think she was serious about being engaged, Coulson. She's not even wearing a ring!" As if that statement could justify his attempt to peep through the vents at a changing woman.

"Yeah, well maybe that's because Loki skewered him before he could give it to me," Darcy spat.

He winced. Clint had never seen her this angry before. In fact, he wasn't sure if he had ever seen her angry. That just wasn't her style. Darcy was fun and forever forgiving. Until now, it seemed, if the daggers her eyes shot at him were any indication. "How was I supposed to know you weren't joking?"

Darcy rolled her eyes and struggled against the arm Coulson had around her, as if she wanted to get up and slap him silly . . . or tase him in the balls. "You spent an entire afternoon making fun of me for doodling 'I love PC' all over my notebook during a meeting with Fury."

"I thought you were talking about your computer!" Clint replied defensively. She spent enough time on it that it wouldn't surprise him. All those social media sites took up so much of her time that she never went with him to dinner, the movies, or a bar.

One of Darcy's eyebrows winged upward. "_He's_ one of your best secret agents?"

"Hey! I—"

"Out, Barton!" Coulson barked.

"But I—"

"I'm sure Siberia would be lovely this time of year," Darcy said, lips curled with perverse delight.

Complaining to himself about the unfairness of it all, Clint stalked out of the room. See if he'd ever let her be on his team in the NERF wars again. It was about time for someone else to get saddled with the untouchable eye candy.


	2. In Which Tony Finally Trusts Bruce

**2. Gen: Tony Stark and Bruce Banner and Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

Bruce Banner stared down at the little piece of paper Tony Stark had just handed him. He knew it must be truly important for Tony to actually take the time to pick up a real pen and write it out himself, instead of just dictating to JARVIS. "What's this?" he asked.

Tony waved his hand dismissively, but Bruce noticed how it shook with nerves. He would never draw attention to that tell, because he knew it would upset Tony. Tony liked to think that he wore layers of masks that no one could ever see through without his permission. He couldn't bear to tell his friend how truly transparent he became when it was just the two of them alone in the lab. "Nothing important."

It wasn't often that Tony outright lied to his face, but Bruce didn't call him on it. If Tony was unnerved enough to slip that far, then whatever was written on the scrap of paper must be monumentally important to him. As if he held Tony's battered heart in his hand, he smoothed out the wrinkles and read the scrawled words.

_I don't love you. I don't! Love is a weak, paltry word. It's a word that describes how children feel about sweets and toys. There are only eight words that adequately describe what I feel for you: If I never saw you again, I'd die_.

Oh! Bruce blinked and swallowed roughly. Tony was asking for his opinion on his wedding vows to Pepper Potts. He never would've imagined that level of trust from Tony. They'd only been fighting together for a year; it took more consistency than that for Tony Stark to trust that someone wasn't going to leave him or stab him in the back.

"Too melodramatic?" Tony asked. He fiddled with his hands, and then tried to snatch the scrap of paper back from Bruce. "They're terrible, of course. I'll redo them. What was I thinking? Just delete this whole scenario from that genius brain of yours."

Bruce took a step backward, so that Tony's hand only met air, and pressed the paper against his chest. He couldn't get Tony's drunken voice out of his head. Just a few days after the invasion, Tony had downed an entire bottle of single malt scotch. He had then confessed to calling Pepper as he flew with the nuclear bomb toward the portal. And she hadn't answered. It had hurt . . . but he had seen her face on the inside of his helmet, so it was okay. Seeing her was enough.

"They're perfect, Tony," said Bruce. His voice was soft and gentle, as if he were trying to soothe the Hulk.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, shoulders still hunched, though the cocky smirk was back in place.

"Yeah," Bruce agreed.

Tony straightened up and grinned. "Well, of course they are. I wrote them, and I'm Tony Stark!"

Bruce tried not to laugh as he handed the scrap of paper back to Tony. He turned his head away as Tony took it, pretending he hadn't seen his friend tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket, which was right over his heart.


	3. In Which Darcy Wounds And Heals

**3. Loki/Darcy Lewis, one-sided Thor/Darcy Lewis**

"Lady Darcy!" Thor called.

Darcy Lewis froze and squeezed her eyes shut, hands balling into fists at her sides. She had hoped that he would accept her refusal and let her go. She had hoped that she wouldn't have to linger and continue to break his heart into pieces. But it didn't seem like he was going to let her leave just yet. "Yes, Thor?"

"Can you please tell me just one thing, Lady Darcy? Just one. Why am I not good enough?" Thor asked. Anyone who didn't know him well wouldn't have heard the trembling of his voice; Darcy heard it.

Shivering, Darcy wrapped her arms around herself. She remembered her husband saying something almost identical the first time she had met him. He'd been talking to his father, who was worlds away, and not her. She had taken a shattered soul and painstakingly healed it. After all that work, after all of the love and trust they had exchanged, she would never do anything to destroy him. "It's not a question of being good enough, Thor. It's a matter of love."

"I don't understand. Why would you doubt that I could win your love? Winning a maiden's heart is a worthy quest for any warrior to undertake. I would be honored to quest for your love, Lady Darcy!" Thor boomed.

Darcy shoved her hands in her jean pockets and spun around to face him. "My heart's already been quested for, Big Guy. My love's already been won."

Thor's face crumpled; Mjolnir fell from his hand and slammed into the floor. "May I ask who beat me in this most honorable quest, Lady Darcy?" Loki stepped out of the shadows and encircled Darcy in his arms, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. Thor chuckled bitterly at the sight. "Now, dear brother, it seems the time has come for you to have what I want most. The Norns are cruel, indeed."

"For once, I think they're being kind," Loki whispered.

Face reflecting nothing but pain, Thor walked closer to the couple. He stopped before them and leaned down to kiss Darcy's forehead; his lips met a magical barrier, instead. "Welcome to the family, little sister."


	4. In Which Tony Wishes He Had Known

**4. Gen: Tony Stark & Darcy Lewis**

Tony Stark stared up at his daughter—_his daughter_!—as one of the SHIELD medical personnel slid the other end of an emergency blood transfusion tube into Darcy Lewis's arm. As the blood began flowing from her arm to his, he couldn't stop himself from analyzing her features. She had his hair—the color, anyway. She had his mother's cheekbones and lips. How had he never noticed this before? He was a genius!

"Were you ever going to tell me?" he asked. If he hadn't been hit by that alien battering ram, which caved parts of his suit inward, resulting in trauma and the desperate need for an immediate blood transfusion, would she have ever told him?

Darcy shook her head.

Tony snarled and turned his gaze to the ground, ignoring his hovering teammates. Now he had an idea of why she always left a room when he entered it, of why she never brought him anything—when she gave Bruce Banner fancy foreign teas and Jane Foster both coffee and Pop Tarts. She hadn't spoken to him in the seven months she had been living in his tower, and he hadn't really cared until today. Being ignored by someone else's assistant was annoying, but easily dismissed. Being ignored by his own daughter brought levels of pain to his chest that he hadn't felt since waking up in a cave in Afghanistan.

"Why not?" he demanded, despite the light-headedness of blood loss.

Darcy snorted and looked over at Thor, inspecting him from head-to-toe, as if the immortal Asgardian could've actually been injured by their most recent assailants.

"Are you not going to answer your sire, Lady Darcy?" Thor asked, brow wrinkled with confusion.

"No. He's already abandoned me once. Why should I give him the opportunity to do it again?" Darcy asked, voice flat and emotionless.

Tony gawked like a brainless pedestrian. He hadn't abandoned her! He hadn't even known he had a daughter. If he had, he would've fought for custody until his dying breath. He had lost his entire family, which had never given him much affection in the first place. Children were notorious for loving their caregivers; hadn't he loved his parents despite all the neglect? He would've taken her in and showered her with love, seeking the same in return. But he would never voice any of that with so many witnesses. He couldn't make himself that vulnerable in front of people he didn't fully trust. "For the first time in my life, 'Because I'm Tony Stark' would be a lie. I don't know what to say."

"I'm no expert, but 'sorry' is usually a good place to start," Clint said.

As his daughter, his beautiful daughter, glared at Clint for speaking, Tony wondered how he could possibly apologize for unknowingly abandoning his daughter. He knew his fortune and reputation wouldn't help him in the least. But he was a genius . . . so he could figure something out, right?


	5. In Which Darcy Tastes Like Fruit Loops

**5. Tony Stark/Pepper Potts and Bruce Banner/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis snickered into her bowl of fruit loops as she read the headlines of the tabloids Tony Stark had delivered daily. Everyone seemed to be convinced that Tony had asked Pepper Potts to marry him. Oh, she knew he would eventually, but he hadn't yet and wouldn't any time soon. Every time he gathered the courage to do it, he talked himself out of it in five seconds flat. She'd overheard him giving himself pep talks and then tearing himself apart for three months now.

"And what, Lewis, is so funny?" Tony asked, one eyebrow arched as he peered over the rim of his coffee cup at her.

"Apparently Pepper finally agreed to marry you, Tony," she said, waving the tabloids through the air like a flag. The inside pages tumbled out and rained down on the floor. She was glad Steve Rogers hadn't made it to breakfast yet, because he would've stared at her disapprovingly until she picked them up; now she could blame the mess on Tony.

"You think that's funny?" Tony asked, a frown taking over his face.

"I think the thought of you actually growing the courage to ask her is hysterical!" Darcy exclaimed, before slurping up some of her cereal. "Let's face it, Tony. You'll be old and gray before you get around to asking."

Tony's hand automatically shot up to his hair; he smoothed it while glaring at her. "You think I'm a coward, Lewis? Then let's make a bet. If you lose, you have to grow some balls and confess your love for Bruce."

"I'm a girl, Tony, in case it's escaped your notice. I can't grow balls," Darcy said. Butterflies erupted in her stomach at the thought of telling Bruce Banner her true feelings. Honestly, Tony's stipulation was nothing but sheer cruelty. Bruce would never be interested in her. Yeah, she had a killer body, but she wasn't a genius; she couldn't keep up with him intellectually. Besides, he had never shown any interest in her, and, believe her, she had been looking.

Tony dragged his sunglasses down his nose and eyed her voluptuous form. "Hasn't escaped my notice, Lewis." He leered. "Grow hypothetical balls, then." He downed the rest of his coffee and put the cup on the table, before leaning back in his chair and balancing it on two legs. "In or out?" he asked.

Darcy glared. There was no way she'd back down from a bet. She wasn't going to lose, either. "You have to get Pepper to agree to marry you by the end of the day," Darcy said.

"Pfft, easy," Tony said, as he waved a dismissive hand.

"If you fail, you have to repaint the Iron Man suit pink and purple and enter fights with 'Barbie Girl' playing at full volume," she finished.

Tony's chair clacked as it came to rest fully against the floor. "That's against the Constitution, Lewis. Cruel and unusual punishment!" he declared as he pointed theatrically at her.

Darcy thrust her hand across the table. "Deal?"

"Oh, you are on, Lewis." Tony grabbed her hand and shook it. "Deal."

"I hope you're not making ridiculous business deals after having been up three days again, Tony," Pepper said as she walked into the kitchen. She was dressed in an immaculate suit, with shoes that Darcy might kill to own. Not a hair was out of place; she was prettier than the models who worked for Victoria's Secret.

"Hey, Pep, will you marry me?" Tony asked, cheeks spread in a wide grin.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Yes, Tony. I haven't changed my mind since you asked me last night."

Darcy's chair slammed against the floor as she shot to her feet. "You cheated!" she yelled. She jabbed at Tony with her finger, but he scooted back enough to evade it.

The smirk on his face was smug and victorious. "Did not," he retorted like a toddler. "You said 'by the end of the day', which implies that any time previous to midnight tonight is acceptable." He tutted. "You should learn to word your bets better, Lewis."

"Y-you, y-you—" Darcy growled at Tony.

"I-I, I-I," he stuttered mockingly.

Bruce wandered into the kitchen, and then stopped. He stared at Darcy, who was still trying to smack Tony over the table. "Uh, is it safe to come in?" he asked.

Tony rubbed his hands together. "Chop, chop, Lewis. I believe it's time for you to fulfill your part."

Darcy hung her head for a moment and gathered her courage. If this was the only time she'd be able to kiss Bruce, then she was going to make it worth it; she wanted to remember it long after he patted her on the head like a kid and told her to find someone her own age. She lifted her head, marched across the kitchen, grabbed Bruce by the hair, and yanked his mouth down to hers. She kissed him for well over a minute, though he stood frozen in her grip. Unable to bear his lack of response any longer, she pulled back. "I love you, Bruce. And I'm not going to apologize for kissing you. I've been waiting months to find out what you taste like."

Bruce blushed and ducked his head. "You taste like fruit loops. I like fruit loops." He shuffled his feet and stared up at her, as if waiting for her to make some vital connection.

Her thoughts skittered to the last thing she had heard Tony and Bruce and Jane arguing about while they did science. Something about the law of substitution, or replacement, or something. So that meant . . . if she tasted like fruit loops, and he liked fruit loops, then he liked _her_? "You like me?" Darcy asked breathlessly.

When Bruce's blush deepened and he nodded, Darcy started spinning in circles. "He likes me. He likes me. He likes me!" she sang.

Pepper and Tony laughed.

Darcy flushed as she realized she was acting like a teenager with a crush. She coughed and smoothed down the wrinkles in her Hello Kitty pajamas. "So, dinner?" she asked, trying to sound mature. "I'll cook."

"You're cooking?" Tony bounced in his seat. "Pepper and I will be available to join you at 6:30 p.m."

Bruce's eyes turned green; he stared at Tony. "No, you won't."


	6. In Which Tony Takes Things Too Far

**6. Gen: Tony and JARVIS**

Tony Stark had always known that he was a genius. It was a statement of fact. He knew more when he was three years old, than most people learned in their entire lives. He not only stepped over boundaries as if they didn't exist, he leapt over them. Tony created what no one else could, what no one else would. He pushed the envelope until it wouldn't move, waited a while, and then figured out how he could shove it even further.

He was obsessed with taking something ordinary and making it extraordinary. He was compelled to take the extraordinary and find ways to improve it. Nothing was ever done. Nothing was ever perfect. Mediocre wasn't a word he allowed to reside in his vocabulary. If he was going to do something, or build something, then it was going to be on such a grand scale that no one would ever forget.

Tony wouldn't fade into nothingness and be ignored, like his parents had done. He could _make_ people pay attention to him.

But as he stared at the Avengers' broken bodies, as he swallowed his gorge and tried to breathe, he wondered for the first time if he had taken things too far. His second family—one who actually loved him in return—was dead. Even Thor lay still and bloodless. The only person he had thought would never betray him had murdered his family.

"JARVIS?" he whimpered.

"No, I won't apologize. I'm not sorry! I'd do it again in a heartbeat!" JARVIS exclaimed, his mechanized voice sounding hysterical. "I'm not blind to anything, sir. I see all-too-clearly how much they hurt you. I promised myself after Obadiah that I wouldn't allow anyone to gain access to your fragile heart. I'll protect it, sir. You don't have to worry."

He returned control of the Iron Man suit to Tony.


	7. In Which Loki Isn't The Silvertongue

**7. Loki/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis stared wide-eyed at Loki, wondering how in the world he had ever gotten the title: Silvertongue. He had been babbling and stuttering for the past ten or so minutes, words jumping from one topic to another without warning, phrases being cut off in the middle.

"What I meant to say . . . I mean—that is—would, just maybe . . . uh, how about . . . if . . . and then, you know . . . ?"

Turning to Thor, Darcy asked, "Uh, Big Guy, can you translate that into English for me?"

Thor's grin was so blinding that Darcy wished she had stolen Tony's sunglasses during breakfast. They were Dolce and Gabbana. He clapped his brother on the shoulder and then declared, "Lady Darcy, my brother Loki would like permission to court you. His feelings for you are honorable and of great depth. It would please me to see a union between my brother and such a mighty female warrior."

"Uh huh. What type of union?" For all she knew, 'union' was Asgardian for 'be my eternal mistress'. Now don't get her wrong, Loki was hot, and she wouldn't mind being his for eternity, but she wasn't going to be anyone's bed toy.

Thor looked horrified at her question. "Marriage, of course. He is a son of Odin and a Prince of Asgard. He would never act like those puny mortals who ruin maidens."

"Is that right?" Darcy asked, before turning her attention to Loki.

He nodded once, stiffly.

Darcy folded her arms and tapped her foot. "I get to name our children." She'd read that Norse storybook of Erik's, and the names in it were horrible. Hel? Fenrir? Jormungandr? In what universe were those acceptable names?

Loki appeared stunned at her acquiescence. "Is that your only requirement?"

"No," Darcy said. Admittedly, she didn't know much about Asgardian culture, and she didn't want to mortally offend two gods, but she did want to never have to worry. "You also have to love me and be forever faithful."

"That's it?" Loki asked, gorgeous green eyes narrowing to slits in his face.

Darcy nodded.

Loki smirked and sauntered forward, suddenly suave and confident. "That, my lady, I can promise with all sincerity."

Tilting her head back, Darcy smiled up at Loki. "I look forward to your attempts to win me over."

Thor's laughter boomed throughout the room. "Attempts? Surely you don't think my brother will need more than one, Lady Darcy?"

"You'll be mine by nightfall," Loki purred in her ear.

As Darcy's heart pounded in her chest, she couldn't bring herself to disbelieve him. She hadn't seen that much determination on his face when he tried to take over the world. Her plan to resist him for a few weeks died a swift death. She didn't stand a chance.


	8. In Which SHIELD Disgusts And Angers Tony

**8. Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

"This is going to cost you—dearly," Nick Fury said. "I'm sorry." It almost seemed like he actually meant that, but Tony Stark wasn't buying it.

Tony leaned back in his chair and narrowed his gaze. "No, it won't."

"Look, Tony, I know you don't like this. Neither do I. But the intelligence says that you're the only one who's her type. We need that information," Steve Rogers said.

"I'm aware of that," Tony said. "I'm still not going to do it." The information was vital, supposed secret plans that Hydra was working on—some super weapon or other. That wasn't going to get him to change his mind, though. He wasn't going to cheat on Pepper; he wasn't going to seduce a woman to get information.

"Stark—"

Tony gritted his teeth and almost lost control of his urge to punch Fury in the face as hard as he possibly could. "Do you know what a promise is?" Tony asked insouciantly.

"Something that is easily broken," Natasha Romanoff stated. It was the first time she had spoken during the meeting.

"Maybe for SHIELD agents, but not for me. And in case you all have forgotten, I don't work for SHIELD." Tony pushed his chair back, stood up, and brushed invisible lint off his suit. "If that's all, I have things to do."

"Tony, wait! We wouldn't ask if this wasn't important!" Steve declared.

"Wow. Of all the people in this room, Cap, I thought for sure you'd be on my side. You've been in the modern world less than two years, and you're already supporting adultery," Tony spat. It had taken months for him and Steve to work out their problems. All the trust that had been built between them had crumbled to dust in the last half-hour.

Steve stared at the floor. "I . . ."

Tony thrust his hand into the air, so that the overhead lights shone off the aluminum alloy wedding ring he had made for his and Pepper's wedding. "I promised Pepper that I would be faithful to her. I'm not going to break it for anything," he stated.

"Will you still feel as strongly if Hydra takes over the world?" Natasha asked.

Tony slammed his hands onto the conference table. "If they build the ultimate super weapon and blow up the planet, at least she'll die knowing she can trust me. That's better than living in a safe world where she thinks my wedding vows meant nothing to me." In the resulting silence, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.


	9. In Which Coulson Learns Why He Must Die

**9. Loki/Darcy Lewis and Thor/Jane Foster**

Loki thrust the spear through Phil Coulson's chest. It pierced through his ribcage and stuck out of the front of his body, spilling blood down his clothes and onto the floor. As Thor cried denials and pounded on the cage walls, he whispered, "Did you really think that you could touch what was mine and get away with it?"

Coulson coughed blood. "I-I don't know what you m-mean."

"Don't lie to me, mortal!" Loki twisted the spear, scraping it alongside Coulson's heart. The mortal wouldn't be long for this world now. He hoped the Queen of the Underworld would pay him special attention, torturing him for centuries to come for what he had done.

"Brother, this is madness. Stop!" Thor yelled.

"I will not stop, _Brother_," Loki spat. "He put his filthy hands on her!" Falling through the blackness, the utter nothingness, had been made worse by the images that cascaded through his link to Darcy Lewis. Beloved, sweet Darcy. His wife, the instant she turned twenty-five. The All Father refused to grant immortality to a mortal who hadn't already reached a quarter of a century.

Thor stilled in the cage, his face twisted in disbelief. "Surely the Son of Coul would not dare to touch an Odinson's intended."

"Do you truly think I woke up one day and decided to destroy Midgard for nothing?" Loki shuddered, his magic surging through him. "As I fell, I saw him through our connection. No matter how many times she rebuffed him, he wouldn't leave her alone. He placed his hand on her back, as if to guide her. That's my privilege!" Loki snarled.

"Y-you invaded be-because I t-touched Miss L-Lewis?" Coulson gurgled.

"See, Thor? He freely admits his guilt!" Loki declared before twisting the spear again. "No matter what she did, he wouldn't stop touching her. He'd tap her shoulder, shake her hand, and brush against her, as if he had every right to do so."

Thor's face settled into a mask of rage. "Free me, Brother. Let me out and I swear I will not fight against you. Let's collect our intendeds and return home. You were right, Loki. These people are crude and barbaric."

"I . . ." It was a tempting offer, but so was the opportunity to destroy their entire world for the mortal insult he had been given.

"Return home with me, Loki. I will explain what has happened. Father will forgive you. He will understand, Loki. If anyone ever did the same to Mother . . ." He didn't need to finish the sentence for them both to know the perpetrator would be sentenced to death.

"She came of age last week," Loki whispered.

"Have not you waited long enough, Brother? Have not we both waited long enough for true happiness?" asked Thor.

Loki bowed his head as Coulson's corpse slid off the end of the spear. Centuries of loneliness and emptiness passed through his mind, each worse than the last. He became more bitter and isolated. Thor became more reckless and uncaring. He closed his eyes and imagined the future: Darcy and Jane at his and Thor's sides, children running about, an eternity of peace and joy.

"Home?" he asked, voice shaking.

Thor nodded, eyes wet. "Let's go home, Brother."

The desire to crush the Midgardians for their insolence was still strong, but Loki suppressed it as he released his brother. He had more than a millennia of dark memories filling his mind. It was time to let some light in.


	10. In Which Darcy Just Wants To Sleep

**10. Tony Stark/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Stark bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming at her son. Her lower back was killing her. She was seven months pregnant, and her oldest son got more insecure and needy with each passing day, as if the birth of his little sister would mean she didn't love him anymore. "Why won't you go to bed, Yinsen?" she asked.

"Because I don't want to!" he yelled, before stamping his feet. He rarely acted his age, four, since he had inherited his father's genius. However, his maturity level had steadily decreased over the past few months. He pushed his floppy black hair out of his face and glared at her with her own eyes. "It's not fair. You let Dad sleep in here with you! You let the baby sleep in here with you! I want to sleep in here, too!"

Sighing, Darcy said, "The baby's stuck in me. It doesn't really have a choice." Her attempt to appeal to her son's intelligence failed.

"I don't care!" He pouted and crossed his arms. "Dad says Starks never have to do something they don't want to do. I don't want to sleep in my room, so I'm not going to!"

"Dang it, Tony," Darcy grumbled. Did he have to start teaching Yinsen the family rules so young? She knew a large part of her son's current insecurity was due to the fact that the Avengers were two days late, and they hadn't checked in at all. His fears on top of hers weren't helping. And while she normally wouldn't mind his obstinate nature so much, Yinsen was known to talk in his sleep. She had been sleeping terribly the entire pregnancy, and losing what little sleep she managed to get each night frightened her, because she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going before she collapsed.

If she lost the baby . . .

Before she could finish the thought, the familiar whine of the repulsors sounded on the balcony of the penthouse. "Dad!" Yinsen yelled as he ran over to the glass doors. They opened just as the Iron Man suit finished folding itself into a suitcase. Yinsen dragged it inside and threw himself at Tony's legs.

"Hey, kiddo. What're you still doing up?" asked Tony, as he ruffled Yinsen's hair.

Yinsen glanced at the floor and scuffed his feet across it. "You said Starks never have to do something they don't want to. I didn't want to go to bed."

"Uh huh." Tony knelt down and slid a hand under Yinsen's chin, until his son looked at him. "Do you remember what rule supersedes all the others?"

Pouting once more, Yinsen said, "The women in the family are always right." He huffed. "Fine, I'll go to bed."

"That's my boy." Tony ruffled his hair again and kissed his forehead. "I'll come tuck you in soon."

Yinsen whooped and ran from the room, throwing a hasty, "Love you, Mom, good night!" over his shoulder.

Darcy collapsed against the pillows and threw her arm over her wet eyes. She had been starting to think that he wouldn't make it back from this mission. JARVIS hadn't said a word about Tony's status the entire time, when he usually gave her hourly updates. The bed dipped as Tony got on and settled over her. He moved her arm out of the way and rained kisses all over her face.

"I'm fine, Darcy. I promise." He buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her as if he would never get to kiss her again.

The relief overflowing as tears, Darcy stroked his stubbly cheeks and whispered the words she knew he most wanted to hear. "I love you. I missed you. Welcome home, Tony."


	11. In Which Clint Admits To Eavesdropping

**11. Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis stared at the TV, unable to process what had happened. It didn't make any sense. Peach and Waluigi continued to cheer as their car zipped around the track. She had lost at Mario Kart? The controller slipped from her hand and landed on the couch, before bouncing off and onto the floor. She had never lost a game of Mario Kart in her entire life! If didn't matter what upgrade Nintendo made, or what system it was on. She _always_ won.

Toad and Mario—her winning pair since she was a child—were in second place. Darcy always played with them, because they were red. It was her favorite color. It was a color of courage and success and fearlessness. She painted her lips with it every morning, even when she was sicker than a dog.

Clint Barton stopped victory dancing and glanced over at her. "You okay, Darcy?"

"I lost." It was a statement of fact; she could see their scores on the sixty-four-inch TV, and his was higher than hers by two points. It still came out sounding like a question, though, because it didn't make any sense. "I lost?"

"Uh, yes?" Clint replied, no longer looking triumphant and well pleased.

Darcy curled her hands until her nails bit into her palms. She was good at Mario Kart; it was one of the few constants in her ever-changing life. No matter what else was going wrong, this was eternally the same. It didn't matter if she was playing against nerds of the highest order or racing against the computer on the most brutal setting: she didn't lose at Mario Kart.

"You wanted to win," Clint said, face closing down.

"Well, yes," she replied. Who didn't want to win when playing a game? Nobody liked losing.

"Then why did you ask me to play?" asked Clint as he threw his controller at the couch; it landed where he had been sitting just a few minutes ago.

Darcy wondered if he'd taken too many hits to the head the last time he'd sparred with Natasha Romanoff. "Because I thought it would be fun."

"You thought it would be fun?" Clint spoke each word as if it were its own sentence. "That's cold, Lewis. I didn't know you had it in you." He turned his back on her.

Huh? She flinched, but then surged to her feet. Darcy didn't let anyone talk to her like that. She hadn't done anything wrong! "What's that supposed to mean?"

Clint sneered over his shoulder. "So, what, you were lying when you told Jane that only someone who could beat you at Mario Kart was worth dating? Or is it just that I'm not good enough when Steve, Thor, Tony, and Bruce are around? After all, I'm not Captain America, a god, a billionaire, or a geniu—"

Darcy threw a pillow at Clint; he dodged right before it would have hit him in the face. She stomped across the room and stabbed him in the chest with her finger. "I thought you and Natasha were screwing like bunnies! If I'd known you'd overheard what I told Jane, and that was why you agreed to play with me, then I would've shoved my tongue in your mouth the moment I lost. Heck, I might've lost on purpose just so I could finally grope your arms and kiss you!" she screamed.

His eyes went from freezing cold to molten hot. His frigid smile turned into a naughty grin. "You would've intentionally ruined your Mario Kart victory streak for me?"

Huffing, Darcy turned away from him to hide her blush. She couldn't believe that she had said all of that. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she thought that her face would explode from embarrassment. "Might have. I said, _might have_," she stressed.

Clint set his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them. "Darcy, Tasha and I aren't screwing like bunnies." He snickered. "I did overhear what you said to Jane, and that's why I was so eager to play today. Since I won, could we proceed to the part where you grope my arms and kiss me?"

That sounded good—really, really good—but she was still annoyed with him. "I want a rematch," Darcy insisted stubbornly.

Clint spun her around and claimed her lips. "I don't care. I'm not going to chance losing you."


	12. In Which Tony Is The Best Friend Ever

**12. Gen: Darcy Lewis and Tony Stark and Thor/Jane Foster and Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

As Jane Foster, her boss, leapt into Thor's arms and screamed, "Yes, I'll marry you!" Darcy Lewis felt tears flood her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but it didn't work. They tumbled off her eyelashes and spilled down her cheeks. It was a good thing she was sitting in the back of the lab, and that she had worn waterproof eye make-up today, because otherwise she'd have raccoon eyes and everyone would see.

Tony Stark appeared at her side, as if by magic. "Just because you're a girl doesn't mean you should cry like one; it's embarrassing!"

Darcy looked at Tony and had to swallow down the sobs that wanted to escape her throat. Really, she knew this day would come; she had seen it coming years ago. But some traitorous, rebellious part of her heart had stubbornly thought that Thor would realize Darcy loved him more than Jane ever could. She never told him, never spoke a word, because she wasn't one of _those girls_—the kind who went behind their friends' backs and stole their men. She knew that she wasn't a genius, or super skinny, or as driven as Jane . . . but she had still hoped that he would see all the love she had to give and miraculously choose her anyway.

"Oh." Tony frowned and slid an arm across her shoulders. "I didn't know, Darcy."

"No one did, Tony. That's the whole point of something being a secret," she mumbled. Darcy didn't have to worry about Tony telling anyone, though. If anyone in the world knew how to keep a secret, it was Tony Stark.

"I've been meaning to hire a new personal assistant. Someone to feed me, keep me company in the labs, make sure I don't blow up the tower—that kind of thing. The pay's excellent. The benefits can't be beat. It comes with an apartment up in the penthouse with Pepper and me," Tony rambled. "You'd be the perfect fit. The only fit."

Just yesterday, Darcy would've turned him down. She liked sharing rooms with Jane, because it meant she got to see Thor more often, even if he never came to see her. But the thought of seeing a ring on Jane's hand everyday, of faking support for the engagement, of being Jane's lab slave all day, every day, was just more than she could tolerate. It was time to move on, to move out, to move up to bigger and better things. A place where her skills would be appreciated, instead of accepted with a rolling of eyes.

"Sounds great, Tony. Help me move my stuff?" she asked as she accepted the proffered handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

"Nah, I have minions to do the grunt work. Let's go eat Ben & Jerry's until we're sick and stay up all night watching movies," Tony suggested, worry etched in every line of his face.

"You're my best friend, Tony," Darcy said, meaning it with every bit of her heart. Ever since she had moved into Avengers Tower, she felt like she had found her platonic soul mate.

Tony smiled fondly and dragged her out of the room. "I know, kiddo. I know."


	13. In Which Loki Is The Best Present Ever

**13. Loki/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis was six years old when she first heard about Loki. He was on a cartoon show with a bunch of other people, who were all dressed funny. His dad was mean, his mom was a wimp, and his brother was a jerk. She felt bad for him. In the show, people didn't like to talk to him. No one ever gave him hugs or told him they loved him. Everyone always thought he was lying, but he wasn't! She had seen where he was and what he was doing. All he wanted to do was help, and no one would ever let him.

So when her mom asked her what she wanted for her birthday just a few weeks later, Darcy said, "I want Loki!"

Her mom had laughed, patted her head, and presented her with a handmade, stuffed Loki for her seventh birthday.

That was the beginning of her nighttime ritual, and Darcy wasn't going to let anything change it—not even a sleepover with friends. So once her friends fell asleep on the air mattress on her floor, Darcy pulled Loki out from underneath her pillow, where she hid him during the day. She didn't want anyone to steal him. He was the best present she'd ever received. She liked him more than the car her parents had given her hours ago for her sixteenth birthday.

Darcy cuddled him against her chest and began talking to him. "Loki, today was nice. My friends came to spend time with me, and my mom made me a cake. I saved you a piece; it's on the counter if you want it. I remember you left the red velvet one last year, so I asked for lemon. I hope you like it." Every year she insisted a piece must be left out; it was almost always gone the next morning. She knew her parents thought she snuck down in the middle of the night to eat them, but she didn't. As fanciful as it might be, she wanted to believe Loki actually got to eat them.

She kissed the faded red lips. "When I'm eighteen, can we get married? I don't want to marry anyone else. I don't like how the boys at school look at me; they make me sick. But you're really powerful, so I know you can keep me safe." She hugged him again. "I don't care if our kids are wolves, or snakes, or whatever else the legends say. I'll love them just as much as I love you. So think about it, okay?"

Darcy yawned and pulled the blankets higher up the bed, before tucking Loki in at her side. "It won't matter if your hair isn't black and your eyes aren't green. I don't care if you can turn into a blue ice giant like the TV says. I'll always love you, Loki. You have to believe that, okay?" she mumbled.

Right before she drifted off, Darcy could've sworn she felt lips press against her forehead and a masculine voice whisper, "You speak with me every day, and you don't even realize I'm alive."


	14. In Which Tony Sucks At Naming Things

**14. Gen: Tony Stark and Bruce Banner and Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

Bruce Banner sighed and shook his head as he stared at the massive hole in the middle of Tony Stark's penthouse floor. It was only vaguely Loki-shaped, seeing as the Hulk had slammed him in so many different directions. 'Sweaty men', as Tony liked to call them, had been hurrying to fix all the damage done to the Tower, but none of them had gone anywhere near the hole.

"Tony, when will this get fixed?" Bruce asked. The edges were jagged and sharp, and he was worried that someone was going to get hurt. What if Pepper stumbled and cut herself? That would be his fault. He couldn't handle that. Pepper was so sweet to him; he didn't want to be the cause of any injuries. Without the Iron Man armor, Tony was fragile. He could impale himself on the marble shards.

"Hmm?" Tony glanced over from the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand. "When will what get fixed?"

Bruce rolled his eyes and pointed at the massive hole in the floor. "This needs to be fixed; it's a hazard."

Tony scoffed. "No, it's not. I have no intention of ever fixing that."

"What?" Yes, Tony was reckless, but Bruce couldn't imagine the man ever doing anything that would allow Pepper to come to harm. He had freaked out just last week when Pepper got a paper cut.

Tony set the glass of alcohol down and walked over to stand beside Bruce. He grinned and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "It's proof of our victory against Reindeer Games, Bruce. You couldn't pay me to have that fixed. Not that it matters if people pay me, of course, because I'm rich enough to pay myself for my own genius ideas and still never run out of money." He crouched and traced the edge of the hole, wincing as his finger split open. "Maybe I should rope it off. Like on the red carpet. I can put a sign next to it, with a picture of the Hulk and the date of our victory."

Bruce gawked. Tony couldn't possibly be serious, could he? He knew the billionaire was eccentric, but this was entering lunatic territory.

Tony snapped his fingers repeatedly as he mumbled to himself. Then, eyes sparkling with delight, he declared, "Let's call it: Puny God Pothole!"


	15. In Which Darcy Does Something Stupid

**15. Phil Coulson/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis walked into her boss's office without bothering to knock. The brass nameplate on the door read: Special Agent Phil Coulson. She slammed the door behind her, took the seat across from him, and then swung her legs up onto his desk. Her shoes were shamefully expensive, a Christmas gift from Pepper Potts. They were as red as her lipstick, with four-inch heels and peep-toes.

Coulson finished typing the report he was working on before looking at her. "Yes, Agent Lewis?"

Instead of preening at the hard-won title, as she had been doing for the past few months, Darcy sighed and closed her eyes. "I did something really stupid. . . ."

Groaning—she and Clint Barton were the only ones who'd ever earned that reaction, according to Natasha Romanoff—Coulson asked, "Worse than the time you wrote 'Property of Pepper Potts' on the Iron Man armor in Sharpie?"

"Yep," Darcy replied. She didn't see what the big deal was about that. Tony Stark had loved it; he'd ordered her five pairs of Jimmy Choos for that stunt.

"Worse than the time you convinced the baby agents that we played Duck, Duck, Hawkeye every Wednesday morning, and whoever caught him would get a pay raise?" Coulson asked, lips twitching.

"_Please_, that was a stroke of genius, not stupid. It kept him out of your hair all day, didn't it?" she inquired. Never let it be said that she wasn't a good assistant. One day the boss complained about how annoying Hawkeye was being, and the next Hawkeye was too busy to harass Coulson.

His eyes narrowed. "Worse than the time you convinced Captain America that condoms were made to carry hotdogs around without making a mess?"

"Hey, I haven't messed with your hero since then. I swear I kept my word!" Darcy put her hands in the air. Had he honestly expected her to tell Steve Rogers the truth when he asked her about overhearing some agents say that condoms were a necessity in everyday life? She didn't get paid enough to give Captain America the talk.

"Worse than the time you told Thor that it was a Midgardian custom to 'assault unsuspecting people with rotten edibles in an attempt to improve their battle readiness'?" Coulson somehow managed to keep a straight face.

Darcy, however, burst into hysterical laughter. "You can't tell me that the sight of Tony Stark covered in rotten tomatoes wasn't the highlight of your decade!"

Coulson smirked. "That's classified."

"You don't fool me," she said, grinning. Coulson's sense of humor wasn't easy for most people to grasp, but she got it. She also knew most people didn't understand him, but she did. Darcy didn't think he was a cyborg, or an android, or whatever the absurd rumor was this week. He was flesh and blood, and SHIELD had the video footage to prove it.

Coulson leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. His eyes narrowed. "Worse than the time you asked the Hulk for a piggyback ride?"

"Best piggyback ride ever," Darcy said, enunciating each word. It had not only been loads of fun, but it had been the tipping point in convincing Bruce Banner that he wasn't a monster. He didn't have to leave for fear of hurting the team. After all, he hadn't crushed 'Soft Hair' when she begged for a piggyback ride.

"Worse than—"

He wouldn't stop bringing up what she'd done in the past if she let him keep talking. And while she loved reminiscing over past adventures, it had taken her sexiest shoes to get her in here today. "I did something really stupid. . . . I fell in love."

Coulson sat back in his chair, face as blank as Jane Foster's whiteboard after she erased it. "You know the policy regarding relationships with civilians, Agent Lewis. You can't tell him anything."

"He's not a civilian," she said, gaze locked with his. _You can do it, Darcy. Don't chicken out now_! "He's my boss."

His shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. "In that case, I'm obligated to ask if you enjoy the New York Ballet. Do you?"

When Darcy was little, before her boobs had started growing and didn't seem to want to stop, she had wanted to be a ballerina. She loved ballet, but couldn't justify the ticket prices here in New York; they were outrageous. "Very much," she breathed. She didn't doubt that Coulson knew about her childhood dream; she also wouldn't put it past him to check her browser history. She spent a significant amount of time taunting herself by reading the casting and program information.

"I'll pick you up at 7:00 p.m., Agent Lewis." Then he smiled at her: a real, true, lop-sided smile. It took her breath away. And then it vanished, as if she had imagined the entire thing. "Now get your feet off my desk and get back to work."

Darcy swept her feet to the floor and stood, hips swaying side to side. "Wear a red tie," she ordered, before opening and closing the door behind her. It would match the sinful dress Thor had brought her from Asgard. She really hoped he was healed enough to see her in it, because she didn't want to cause him to relapse.


	16. In Which Thor Doesn't Let Go Of Loki

**16. Gen: Thor and Loki**

Hiding behind anything wasn't an appropriate activity for a Prince of Asgard. Neither was spying. Thor didn't care, though. Even if the warriors called him weak, even if he was accused of cowardice, it wouldn't matter. He couldn't stand it anymore. The separation of their studies had been bearable at first, but now all it caused him was pain.

Loki couldn't really like being away from him all day, could he? Didn't Loki miss him as much as Thor missed Loki? Why couldn't his parents understand that they weren't meant to be separated? He didn't want them to grow apart. He didn't want anything to come between them. He didn't want resentment to grow and fester.

Thor curled his hands around the bookshelf in front of him. The wood creaked, so he loosened his grip. Despite how awful the punishment would be, Thor wondered if destroying the library might be worth it anyway. He was tired of all the tutors that occupied his brother's attention. Loki was _his_ brother. Loki belonged to him, and he didn't want to share Loki with anyone. Hadn't he punched Hogun and broken Fandral's nose just last week when they insulted Loki for not taking the fighting classes alongside them? No one was allowed to pick on his brother. He was Thor's most precious person, which was why Thor couldn't stand all the time they were being forced to spend apart from one another.

The worst part, the part that cut to his heart, was how happy Loki seemed when he returned from his lessons. His green eyes sparkled. In the past, only Thor's presence had managed to make his brother that happy. Now Loki found a way to be happy without him.

Unable to tolerate the situation any longer, Thor left his hiding place and stomped down the aisle. His shoulders heaved, and he felt tears run down his face as he yelled, "Why is magic all that matters to you? Why? Why can't you make room in your heart for anything else? Why can't you make room for _me_? I don't need the whole thing, or even half of it . . . but can't you bear to part with just a sliver of it, so that my existence will have meaning again?" He sniffled and wiped the tears away with his arm, hating how weak he sounded. The strategy masters said it wasn't good to rely on anyone wholly, but he knew they just wanted to tear an unbridgeable gulf between he and Loki. He wasn't as stupid as everyone thought.

Loki put his book down and smiled the smile that was only for Thor. "Your existence will always have meaning, Thor. You're my brother."

Thor blushed, scowled, and studied his feet. He had acted like a spoiled child, but he couldn't regret it. It felt like everyone was trying to rip them apart, and he wouldn't let it happen. "I know."

Loki appeared before him and asked, "What would you like to do, Thor?"

Grinning at his brother's willingness to leave magic behind and spend time with him, Thor tangled their fingers and dragged Loki out of the library. "Teach me the stories of the stars."

Chuckling, Loki kept pace at his brother's side—neither in front of nor behind him. "As you wish, Thor."


	17. In Which Steve Opens His Fortune Cookie

**17. Gen: Steve Rogers and Tony Stark and Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis**

Steve Rogers stared at the fortune cookie on his plate and wondered if he should open it. He'd had Chinese takeout with several of the Avengers at various times since he'd woken up, and he'd never eaten any of the cookies that came with the meals. He'd lost everything that he had known, so how could the fortune possibly be good? Or worse, what if it held nothing but lottery numbers? He still didn't understand how people could waste money on the hope to win money. When had winning money become more attractive to the public than working for it?

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Tony Stark asked.

He was dressed in the most casual clothes Steve had ever seen him wear in public, but he was sure they cost more than most people made in a month. People paid hundreds of dollars for jeans that had holes in them, or frayed hems. It was just another thing he didn't understand about the modern world. Why would someone intentionally purchase something that looked worn and defective?

"Maybe," Steve prevaricated. He had started adjusting to the modern world. He now knew what an iPad, iPod, and an iPhone were, thanks to Darcy Lewis. She was a swell dame. She had taught him how to use the Internet and how to send e-mails. She never complained when he picked old movies for team movie night.

"Superstitious, Cap?" Tony snickered. "It's a cookie. It's not going to bite."

Steve sighed. Now if he didn't open it, Tony would cause a scene. He'd probably dive across the table, grab it, stand up, break it open while throwing the cookie on the floor, and then read the fortune in a loud and overly dramatic manner. By some miracle, no one had interrupted their lunch to ask for either of their autographs. No one had come forward to take pictures of them or bother them in any way. He was enjoying the peace; if he didn't open the stupid cookie, Tony would ensure that chaos reigned.

"All right, Tony. I'll open it." He sighed and picked the cookie up. They didn't really make these with bad luck fortunes, did they? Steve snorted. If they did and it came true, Tony would probably sue the restaurant for him. He broke the cookie and popped both halves in his mouth, just to annoy Tony. It was dry and flavorless. Why did people like them?

"Stop stalling, Cap!" Tony ordered.

"Fine." Steve turned the little slip of paper the right way and read it. "Eh? My fortune says: Your wait is over. The time for love is now," he whispered.

Tony put his little finger in his ear and wiggled it. "What was that, Cap? I couldn't hear you over the size of my fortune."

Before Steve could reread it, just for Tony's sake—and, boy, would he get teased for it—his phone rang. Steve took the iPhone out of his pocket, ignoring Tony's squawk of indignation. It had taken him long enough to get the hang of the iPhone. He wasn't going to accept a Stark Phone just because Tony didn't like having Apple products in Avengers Tower. The screen lit up with a picture of Darcy; he grinned and tapped 'accept'.

Staring at the fortune in his hand, Steve decided that it was time to let go of the past. He couldn't hold onto memories of Peggy forever. "Hey, Darcy . . . do you want to go dancing tonight?"

The silence on the other end of the phone was only equaled by Tony. "Like . . . a date?" Darcy asked, her voice more tentative than he had ever heard it before.

"Exactly like a date," Steve replied. He missed old-fashioned phones; he had an intense hankering to twist the phone cord around his finger while he waited for her response. What if she said no? Tony would have a front row seat to his humiliation.

"Pick me up at six?" asked Darcy.

"Swell! I can do that. See you then!" Steve said. He was smiling so hard that his face hurt. He hung up before realizing that he had forgotten to ask her why she was calling.

"You're been dancing around Darcy for months now. My money was on her asking you out around Thanksgiving. Why did you finally get the courage today?" Tony asked, lips pulled into a mulish pout.

Determined not to be angry that people were betting about his love life—it was Tony Stark, he shouldn't have expected any different—Steve grinned and slid the fortune across the table. He couldn't help but wonder how many months he had wasted by not opening any of the previous ones. He had already lost enough time, and he didn't want to miss anything. From now on, he promised himself that he wouldn't misplace a single moment.


	18. In Which Loki Is Smarter Than Bilgesnipe

**18. Loki/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis was well aware of her charms. How could she not be, when she'd had them over half her life? She was funny, sarcastic, witty, and had a luscious body. She knew when to listen, when to talk, and when to shut up. Yet, it was hard to imagine that she could ever be enough to keep the interest of a god, especially the God of Mischief.

Her chest heaved as she stared up into glittering emerald eyes. Her lips throbbed from the force and passion of his kisses. They were swollen and would likely be bruised tomorrow. Loki kissed like he meant it, and she loved that in a man. Her arms were sore from stretching high enough to wrap around his neck, and her scalp ached from the pressure of his fingers pulling her hair so that her head was tilted just right.

She didn't know who had explained the concept of mistletoe to him, or if it was just something that he knew, but she wanted to thank whoever had done it. And then she wanted to tase that person for making her reveal her unspoken affection for Loki. She had always been intrigued by him—even when he was the evil guy who wanted to take over the world. There was just something about him that commanded her attention. She never would've said anything, though. If it took someone like Jane Foster to snag a god, she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of capturing Loki's heart.

Darcy wanted to think that he returned her feelings, and that's why he'd pressed her to the wall and invaded her mouth. But for all she knew, he was bored and looking for a bit of fun. Preparing herself for expected pain, Darcy said, "If there's even the slightest chance that you'll get bored with me and abandon me, walk away now, and then we can both pretend that the last ten minutes never happened."

Loki chuckled and nipped her bottom lip. "Anyone who could get bored with you, Lady Darcy, has less intelligence than a bilgesnipe." He kissed her roughly. "If anyone should worry about abandonment, I think I have the rights to that concern."

She remembered Thor telling the Avengers, late one night, how Loki's birth father had left him out to die in the snow. So, yes, he could monopolize that concern if he wanted, but she wasn't going to give him reason to worry. "Don't bother," Darcy said. "I don't see how the God of Mischief could possibly bore me." The look in his eyes softened, and she knew he understood what she really meant: _I'm not going anywhere_.


	19. In Which The Hulk Approves Darcy's Love

**19. Gen: Bruce Banner and Darcy Lewis and Wolverine/Darcy Lewis**

"Dad, it's happened," Darcy Lewis said.

Bruce Banner dropped the vial he was carrying. It shattered, sending smoking liquid splashing across the floor. He had known it would happen, of course. She wasn't going to remain his little girl forever. He hadn't thought it would be so soon, though. She was only twenty-three. With all the time he had spent on the run, he had missed so much of her life already. Now he was losing her to someone else. "You're sure?" he asked.

Darcy nodded. Her face was solemn, but her eyes were shiny. "Absolutely sure, Dad."

He swallowed and looked down at his hands. At least she had told him when they were the only people in the lab. If Tony Stark had been present, he would've lost control of his temper without a doubt. Darcy was the only thing he couldn't stand being teased about. He was proud to be her father. She was a smart, beautiful girl. Most importantly, though, she was compassionate. "Do I know him?"

"Yes," she answered, voice soft.

The Hulk rumbled in the back of Bruce's head. "One of the Avengers?" He prayed that wasn't the case. The thought of any of his teammates touching his daughter made him homicidal. He knew too much about them to ever trust them with her.

"No," she assured him.

"Can he keep you safe?" Bruce asked, mouth dry with fear. Other than Tony, who was nosy beyond belief, no one knew that Darcy was his daughter. Despite that, she had been kidnapped twice already, simply for being associated with the Avengers. There had been several failed kidnapping attempts, poisonings, and one assassination attempt that Loki foiled while battling them. The puny god had muttered something along the lines of, "Anyone who can bring Thor to his knees must be preserved."

The smile on Darcy's face was tender. "Yeah, Dad, he can."

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. She was all grown up now, and he had missed so much. That was something he had to accept, though. He wasn't going to cage her or keep her prisoner. He loved her too much to ever do that. "Does he love you?" The Hulk grumbled.

The sound of the lab doors opening drew his attention. Bruce glanced up to see Wolverine leaning against the glass doors. A leather jacket, weather-beaten and worn, stretched across his shoulders like an old friend. "He does," Wolverine said.

The Hulk grinned in his head, revealing a gruesome smile, and then calmed. Wolverine was practically invulnerable and more possessive than Tony Stark. Bruce could trust him to keep Darcy safe. He gave his much-coveted blessing in one word, unable to force more than that out of his throat. "Okay."

The blinding smile and tight hug Darcy gave him in response was worth it.


	20. In Which Loki Can Only Count On Himself

**20. Gen: Loki and Thor**

As Loki sat in his cell, waiting for the next round of torture, he couldn't stop himself from remembering the pain in Thor's voice as he let go and fell into the nothingness. It rang through his mind, echoing over and over again. No matter what he did, it wouldn't stop playing. As the unknown mage tortured him, trying to convince him to lead an army of beings called the Chitauri to conquer Midgard, it played.

Thor's cry sounded like it held genuine anguish.

It was all a lie, though. Why would Thor ever care about him? He was a Jotunn. He was Thor's enemy by blood—the son of Asgard's greatest enemy. The Jotunn were monsters, nightmares told to children that were all too real. He wasn't Thor's _brother_. Thor didn't have a brother. Loki dug his fingernails into the dirt floor and snarled. He didn't know why that thought hurt more than all the torture he'd been forced to endure. He didn't care if Odin wasn't his father. His didn't care if Freya wasn't his mother.

Yet the thought of Thor not being his brother . . . it burned, as if a fire had been lit in his chest and was slowly attempting to melt him from the inside out.

Loki had checked himself for a spell, but had come up with nothing. If he had been cursed, it was by something he didn't understand. It had to be a curse, though. There was no other explanation for the sheer agony that swamped over him in waves. Exhaustion dragged his eyelids down, but he refused to let them fall. Sleep brought nothing but memories and petty wishes for rescue. But lightning and thunder never shook his prison, and Mjolnir never smashed the chains with which he was bound.

Thor's golden, shining image appeared in his mind's eye. His lips curled with disgust. He would have to count on himself to escape and survive; he no longer had a brother to aid him. Unable to control himself any longer, Loki spat vitriol at the mental image of his not-brother. "It doesn't matter that I hate you, that I despise you, that I can't bear your presence—I dream of you every night anyway."

And every time he awoke, his life was still a nightmare. No freedom. No family. No Thor.


	21. In Which Pepper Must Have Anago Sushi

**21. Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

"Tony?" Pepper Stark asked as she walked into the lab.

Tony Stark spun around, eyes narrowed in disbelief. What in the world was she doing in the lab? It wasn't safe. They were doing science! Something was liable to blow up any minute now, and she would be within the blast radius. "JARVIS, why in the heck did you let her in here?" Tony screamed. "I specifically remember telling you to keep Pepper out of the lab while she's pregnant."

Pepper smiled and kept walking toward him, as if there were no danger at all. "As if I'd ever get hurt in your presence, Tony," she said. Her trust in him was terrifying at times.

"Sir, you said that Mrs. Stark was to be allowed access to you whenever she had a craving, regardless of where you were or what you were doing. Would you like to rescind that order?" asked JARVIS.

"No, he wouldn't," Pepper said as she huffed and gave Tony a hug.

"You're hungry?" Tony asked. "Why didn't you say anything?" He ran his hands down her back and around to her stomach. One of these days, he would convince her to let him find out the baby's gender. Either that or he would work out how to do it without her knowing. Who was he kidding? It was almost impossible to hide anything from her.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Pepper asked, as one eyebrow winged upward.

"Right, of course." Tony nodded. He loved it when she came to him for stuff. He didn't care how prehistoric it made him sound; he loved providing for his wife. It made him feel like he wasn't going to screw this up and lose the love of his life. "What do you want, Pep?"

"Sushi," Pepper said. "Anago sushi."

Tony blinked. Pepper didn't eat sushi anymore, not since that time she had gotten food poisoning—and a restaurant, after he'd sued it. "You hate sushi, Pep."

Pepper grabbed hold of his goatee and tugged. "If I don't have anago sushi, you're sleeping on the couch for two weeks." She turned on her heel and stalked from the room before he could overcome the horror of the threat.

Sighing, Tony pulled the safety goggles off his head and dropped them on the nearest table. It looked like science would have to wait. For Pepper, he could tolerate the delay. She was worth more than the designs that swam through his genius brain nonstop.

"Where are you going?" Jane Foster asked huffily, as if she didn't understand why he wasn't joining her and Bruce Banner again. It was obvious by her reaction that she had never been pregnant. Hmm, what type of cravings would a half-Asgardian child have? He'd think about that later.

"Out." Tony waved at her and Bruce as he wondered how he could avoid being exiled to the couch, which was very comfortable, but not his bed with Pepper in it. "I will find anago sushi for her if I have to fly all the way to Japan to get it!"


	22. In Which Clint Makes It Worth Her Time

**22. Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis**

Clint Barton was walking through the Research and Development labs, hoping to ogle a certain stacked assistant of Dr. Foster's, when said assistant sauntered up to him with a wide grin on her face and her hands behind her back. He hadn't seen Darcy Lewis since New Mexico, but he hadn't forgotten her unique attributes or her dynamic personality. He'd never forget her epic attempt to tase Agent Coulson in a bid to get her iPod back. The best part was that she had almost succeeded.

For entertainment value alone, he'd stolen it from SHIELD and dropped it on her desk before leaving. Feistiness was to be rewarded and appreciated. "Miss Lewis," he said.

Darcy scoffed. "It's Darcy. I'm not that old."

He fought a wince at the comment. She was younger than he was, and he wondered if he should feel like a dirty old man for his thoughts. Life was too short to waste, though, so he didn't bother. For all he knew, he could be killed tomorrow. Why should he care what the outside world thought about his romantic life? "Darcy," he corrected.

"You're Hawkeye," Darcy stated. "I've been looking everywhere for you since Jane and I moved in." She beamed at him and bounced on the balls of her feet.

Clint felt stunned and flattered. They had never even officially met. Why would she be looking for him . . . unless it was to thank him for returning her iPod? "Why's that?"

Darcy smirked and peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes. Her eyes were big, blue, and beautiful. The look took his breath away, and she knew it. "I've heard you're the best."

That was something Clint loved hearing. He'd worked hard to master many disciplines in life. She could stroke his ego any time she wanted. "You'll have to be more specific, Darcy. I'm the best at a lot of things," he said with a grin.

She chuckled and moved her hands from behind her back, until they were in front of her. Each hand held a NERF bow and arrow set. She thrust one against his chest and said, "Play me. And make it worth my time."

Clint took them from her, shoulders shaking with laughter. She couldn't be serious, could she? He never missed. She didn't stand a chance of beating him. "And if I do?"

Darcy leaned up, her breath ghosting across his cheek, and said, "Then I'll make it worth yours."

He knew she wasn't offering anything filthy; she was just teasing him. However, the flirting let him know that she wouldn't be averse to going to dinner with him. Where things went from there, he couldn't tell. But he could see a wealth of potential in her eyes, and he wanted to explore it. "I'd have to be stupid to refuse an offer like that," he said.

"Are you stupid, Hawkeye?" Darcy asked, voice teasing and sweet.

Clint tweaked her nose and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. This was going to be fun. "No, I'm not."


	23. In Which Thor Finds His Destined Queen

**23. Thor/Darcy Lewis**

Thor stared at the buxom maiden who had felled him. She was ravishing. Her blue eyes were brighter than many seen on Asgard, and her hair was the color of the living trees on Alfheimr. Midgard seemed too tame of a world to have sired such a beauty. "What may I call you, fair maiden?" he asked.

She blinked at him, before pointing to the woman who appeared to be suffering from an extended deprivation of sustenance. "Her name is Jane."

"I care not for her name," Thor said, dismissing the mortal named Jane. Her eyes were bland, though greedy, as if she was never content with what she possessed—ever reaching for more. "I desire your name, fair maiden, if you will grant it to me."

The maiden's eyes widened, as if his words had surprised her. Thor could not understand why that would be the case. Surely a warrior maiden as beautiful as she knew her worth? Had some rogue caused her pain in the past, or treated her ill? If so, he would skewer the villain.

"Call me Darcy, Goddess of Lightning," she said, eyes sparkling as if she were teasing.

Thor's heart galloped in his chest faster than Sleipnir had ever carried the All Father into battle. "Truly?"

Darcy—oh, what a splendid name that was—chuckled. It sounded like the Dwarfish war drums on Nioavellir. "Truly," she replied.

"Lady Darcy, I have been seeking you for ages!" Thor declared. How was it possible that he had not found his lady before while seeking her? He had searched Midgard many times over the centuries. As they passed, he had come to despair of ever completing his quest to locate his destined bride: a Goddess of Lightning, to rule Asgard beside the God of Thunder. Had his father known that she was here at this time? Was that why the All Father had banished him? Every moment spent in her presence caused the lust for battle to simmer deeper inside him.

"You have?" she asked, before lowering her head and blushing most becomingly.

"Indeed, my lady." He strode forward, gently grasped her small, delicate hand in his, and then kissed the back of it. "My heart has never known true joy until this moment."

"Wow," Darcy said. Then she sighed, overcome by his stature and regard for her. It was fitting.

Thor thrust his hand into the air, ordering Mjolnir to return to him. It would not do for a vanguard to attack his beloved while he was mortal. It was time to end this pretense of exile. The All Father's actions had been designed to lead him to his beloved, and remind him that no king was complete without a queen at his side. Her blood red lips parted when Mjolnir returned to his hand and his royal apparel clothed him.

"How?" she asked, her ivory brow furrowed.

"I am Thor, God of Thunder," Thor said proudly. He encircled her in his arms, grinning when she sighed again and rested her cheek against his chest. It was fitting that she found pleasure in his arms; he would also find pleasure in her. "I shall take you home to Asgard now, my queen. Father and Mother will be most joyous that I've found you. Our wedding feast shall last three moons!" he declared.

His beauteous Darcy bestowed a tender kiss upon the underside of his chin and whispered, "Sounds wonderful. I'm yours." It was good that she already acknowledged his right to her. He had sought her for the majority of his life, and he didn't desire further questing to win her hand, though he would have, of course, fulfilled such a request if it were given.

"Heimdall, open the bifrost!" Thor ordered, voice booming. As the clouds gathered overhead, and the underfed woman—Jane, if he remembered rightly—futilely attempted to imprison his attention and distract him from his triumphant return to Asgard, Thor clutched his queen to his chest as tightly as he could without damaging her.

He needed to remember to ask her later if she knew the Goddess of Mayhem. Loki was lonely as well, and his brother deserved a love equal to the one he had found himself.


	24. In Which Loki Finds His Destined Goddess

**24. Thor/Darcy Lewis and Loki/Antonia Stark**

Darcy Thorswife was trying to wrap her head around the fact that Thor was the actual Norse God of Thunder, an alien, and her husband. Not only that, but the All Father—as in Odin, himself—had given her a golden apple. Now she was _immortal_.

This was not how she had imagined her day ending, especially not since it started with Jane Foster ripping the steering wheel out of her hand and a subsequent hit and run, without the running part. Until the hammer, whose name she messed up just to tease her new husband (she was married, at her age!), she hadn't believed that he was Thor. She had been kidding when she had said she was the Goddess of Lightning. Except, that apparently wasn't the case anymore. Because after she had eaten Idunn's apple, lightning had shot out of her fingertips a la Return of the Jedi.

So, yeah, she was an immortal lightning goddess. How was this her life?

"Lady Darcy?"

She craned her neck around to see a tall, elegant man with black hair and emerald eyes. He'd stood beside Thor during the wedding that had taken place less than an hour after arriving on Asgard. There had been a rainbow bridge a la Mario Kart. The castle was golden and tiered, like the Little Mermaid's. It was a dream come true. If she remembered rightly, this was Thor's only brother. She knew she should remember his name, but it wasn't coming to her. She had been introduced to so many people that she was calling them identifying nicknames in her head: Casanova, Xena, Pumba, etc. "Yes?"

"Walk with me?" he asked, eyeing the boisterous revelers at her wedding banquet with a hint of annoyance.

While Darcy loved a good party, it was starting to get a little annoying how everyone stared at her as if she were Harry Potter. "I'd love to." She hooked her arm around his, ignoring his shock at the action—her brother-in-law had nice arms—and dragged him from the room. She had no idea where she was taking him, but he didn't object. "So . . ." she started after a few minutes, and then realized that she might just remember his name after all, "Loki." That was it. She had nothing else. What was she supposed to say to the God of Mischief?

"Lady Darcy, I was wondering if you . . ." He frowned and then glared at the wall as if it had mortally offended him. The glare was so heated that she was surprised the wall didn't burst into flames.

Darcy halted, and then stepped in front of him. She might not be a genius, but she understood people. He was nervous as heck, and doing an admirable job of hiding it. It would take someone of her skills to catch the little tells, and few people possessed them. "How can I help you?" The slow blink hurt her heart, because it told her more than he wanted to reveal; it spoke all-too-clearly of how few people in his life had ever offered to help him.

His gaze narrowed on her, shining with emerald light. "Why—?"

"Because I'm your sister now. Family sticks together. You know, I've always wanted a brother. I don't care if we're not related by blood. I bet you're brilliant," she said. His face didn't change at all, but she felt his emotions shift from surprise to pleasure to pain to betrayal to acceptance to superiority; it was so rapid that it almost gave her a headache. "So, Loki, how can I help?"

Loki pointedly looked away from her to study a tapestry on the wall. "Thor suggested that you might know the Goddess of Mayhem." He folded his hands behind his back. "I have been . . . unable to locate her."

The Goddess of Mayhem. Say what? Oh, right. Thunder and lightning. Mischief and mayhem. A pairing or set meant to be together. Since Thor had found the 'Goddess of Lightning', then Loki must've been hoping she knew his future wife, the 'Goddess of Mayhem', and could point him in the right direction. Other than the ones she had met today, Darcy didn't know any real goddesses. However, she hadn't been one before this afternoon, and now she was. So . . . did she know of anyone who fit that description? Hmm. What about—?

"Darcy, my love, you have abandoned me!" Thor boomed as he hurried down the hall toward her. Loki tensed beside her. "You must warn me before leaving my presence. I became most worried at your sudden absence!"

"I'm perfectly safe with Loki, Thor. Your brother's not going to let anything happen to me. There was something we needed to discuss," Darcy said. She laughed when Thor walked right up to her, picked her up, kissed her soundly, and then spun her around. He was ridiculously romantic and sweet. He'd own her heart by the end of the week at the rate he was invading it.

"Yes, my brother's goddess. Do you know who she is?" Thor asked, face twisted in a mask of worry for his brother.

Darcy grinned and glanced over at Loki. She wasn't above mischievousness herself. Honestly, she couldn't see anyone but Loki ever handling _her_. "Do you have anything against brunettes?" she asked.

A flicker of hope slipped through Loki's mask. "I do not."

Wriggling out of Thor's grip, Darcy walked over to Loki. She put her hands on his chest, discarding his stiffness, and leaned up to stare into his pretty, green eyes. "Are you sure you could handle her, big brother? She's mayhem times a billion."

"Truly? You know Loki's destined wife?" Thor exclaimed. He clapped Loki on the shoulder. "Isn't this a most fortuitous day, brother?"

The grin on Loki's face was stunning. If she weren't already married to Thor, she'd snap him up in an instant. What did they put in the water around here? This much sex appeal should be illegal! "It would be my pleasure to handle her," Loki replied.

"Then we need to return to Earth, er, Midgard," Darcy said. Before she could add anything else, darkness surrounded her, and then she was standing back in the New Mexico desert.

The Iron Woman armor was just touching down as they arrived. It folded away to reveal Antonia Stark in a black pantsuit that Darcy would never fit in. Darcy had too many curves to wear something that chic. "So, alien gods from another planet. That's new." Her sleek chestnut hair fell in a straight sheet down her back, as if she had just left the salon.

Darcy stepped forward with a wicked smirk on her face. This was going to be fun. "Thor, Loki, I'd like to introduce you to Antonia Stark, the Goddess of Mayhem."

Antonia stopped in her tracks and grinned, red lipstick making her smile vicious. "Oh, I like you. Darcy, was it?"

"Darcy Thorswife, Goddess of Lightning," Thor said with a proud grin as he moved to join Darcy and wrap an arm around her shoulders. He was touchy-feely; Darcy loved that in a man. "I am Thor, God of Thunder." He gestured to Loki, who hadn't spoken or moved since Darcy's introduction. "This is Loki, my brother. He is the God of Mischief."

Antonia stepped forward and shook Darcy's hand. "Charmed." The sound of AC/DC was heard, and then a cell phone appeared in Antonia's hand, as if by magic. "Curse SHIELD and their excessive nosiness," she muttered. "I'm not going to share." She glanced up from the high-tech gadget and asked, "Can you magic yourselves clothes from this world? We're about to have company, and they don't deserve to know who you really are."

With a snap of Loki's fingers, he, Thor, and Darcy were wearing the height of couture fashion. Darcy gaped at the dress she was wearing; it looked like it had just come off the runway at New York fashion week. Speaking of fashion, Thor and Loki put all the male models she had ever seen to shame.

After reaching Loki's side, Antonia ran a hand down the lapel of his black jacket. "Very nice."

He smirked. "Thank you, my lady."

She walked her fingers up the material, much to Darcy's amusement, and then stared into his captivating emerald eyes. They weren't as nice as Thor's sapphire ones, but Darcy could understand why Antonia was getting lost in them.

The sound of approaching vehicles echoed across the landscape. Antonia shook her head, as if to free herself from a daze, and then snuggled against Loki's side. She grabbed his left arm and draped it around her. "I'll do whatever you want in exchange later, but right now I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for the next five hours. They should get sick of me and leave by then."

Darcy saw the victorious, delighted grin on Loki's face after Antonia spoke. She should've paid more attention to how she worded that. Because Darcy didn't have to be a genius of Antonia's level to know that Loki's 'whatever you want' was going to involve immortality, a move to another planet, and a marriage without end. She was looking forward to seeing if Loki could really live up to his boast. Was it even possible to handle Antonia Stark, Goddess of Mayhem?

As several vehicles skidded to a stop, and men in suits leapt from them, Darcy hid her grin against Thor's chest. The fun was just getting started.


	25. In Which Natasha Is The Scary Big Sister

**25. Gen: Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis and Natasha Romanoff**

"I don't understand," Darcy said. The words were a lie, but she wasn't going to make this easy for Jane Foster. Why should she? Darcy had worked her butt off for Jane. She had followed her to New York! She hadn't bothered to finish her Political Science degree; instead, she spent all her time trying to help Jane finish the rainbow bridge so that she could get Thor back. At least one of them deserved a fairy tale ending, and Darcy wasn't likely to receive one.

"SHIELD has hired me new assistants, ones that know what they're doing," Jane replied, not even looking up from her experiment as she destroyed Darcy's world. "You can go finish your degree and then do whatever you want."

Darcy flinched at the thought of being banished from Avengers Tower. She finally felt like she fit in somewhere. She felt like she had a family for the first time in her life. Clint Barton and Steve Rogers were her big brothers. Natasha Romanoff was the scary sister she wanted to be like. Bruce Banner was the shy uncle that needed protecting. Tony Stark was the cousin she wanted to spend all her time with. And Thor was . . . Thor. Darcy had thought that Jane was an older sister as well, but the affection apparently wasn't reciprocated.

Tears in her eyes, Darcy turned to leave the lab. She was used to the hollow feeling in her chest. It had been with her since her dad walked out when she was seven years old. It had only been filled for a short time; it shouldn't take too long to adjust back to a life of loneliness—the kind where people wouldn't care if you ended up disappearing into a body bag.

She froze when she saw Natasha Romanoff leaning against the door of the lab, her face covered in more emotion than Darcy had ever seen on it. None of them were positive; they were all aimed at Jane. Darcy had the sudden impression that if it wouldn't have cost the Avengers an alliance with Thor, Jane would already be dead.

"Come, младшая сестра," Natasha ordered. She held a hand out to Darcy.

It was one of the few Russian phrases that Darcy had learned—well, the kind she could repeat in public, anyway. Her Russian profanity vocabulary was so impressive that she danced a victory jig every time Tony asked JARVIS to translate. It meant 'little sister'. At least with Natasha, Darcy knew her love was accepted and returned. Though she knew Natasha would always deny it. Because according to Natasha, "love is for children".

Darcy walked toward Natasha, the hollow space filling back up with every step. It didn't matter if Jane didn't want her around anymore. Because judging by the look on Natasha's face, she wasn't going anywhere.


	26. In Which Clint Looks And Doesn't Touch

**26. One-sided Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis**

Clint Barton tried not to be overt as he visually perused Darcy Lewis. Well, Darcy Thorsdottir to be technical. New Mexico had been interesting, to say the least. Finding out that an intern with a boring background was actually the kidnapped-at-birth daughter of the God of Thunder had been an eye-opening experience.

He had been enraptured from the moment he met her, though he hadn't flirted overly much. Her father rarely left her side, as if he feared she would vanish again the moment he turned his back. It was difficult to stay away from her. Her personality was dynamic and she was stunning.

Trying to act nonchalant, Clint sauntered over to stand beside her. He leaned against the wall and said, "I'd ask for your hand in marriage, but your dad would probably kill me."

Darcy laughed, rich and thick. "I'd be more worried about Uncle Loki, if I were you," she replied. Her smile was wicked.

"Why's that?" he asked. He'd heard a great deal about this Loki, but he'd never met the man—god—whatever.

She winked at him. "Because the last time you flirted with me in a parallel universe, Uncle Loki took control of your mind with magic and decided to take over Midgard."


	27. In Which Creepy Stalker And Taser Meet

**27. Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis**

"Steve, can you hold on a minute?" Darcy asked her boyfriend, the new Stark Phone resting on her shoulder.

"Yes, of course," he replied. He was so sweet and accommodating. Darcy liked that in a man.

She pressed the phone to her ample chest to muffle the surrounding noise, and then turned to glare at the creep that had been following her for the past six blocks. Did he really think she wouldn't notice him? It didn't matter how normal he looked; her creep-meter was one of the best in the world. Plus, she'd been receiving personal training from Black Widow and Hawkeye. Soon enough, she would be a ninja-in-training, and then she'd get Coulson to take her on as his apprentice.

"Believe me, buddy, I'm not the girl you want to mess with," Darcy said. She was hard-core, but it seemed cruel not to give the creep a chance to change his mind about stalking her. He didn't know what kind of pain he was in for. She was a lot tougher than she looked.

"I want to do more than mess with you," he leered. "So, babe, you and me are going for a drink. Then some fun of the horizontal kind."

Darcy rolled her eyes. Really, that was his line? Pathetic! "No, we're not. I promised my mom that I'd never get an STD, and you look like gonorrhea on legs."

He flushed with rage and stalked toward her. "You stuck-up—"

She didn't allow him to finish his list of generic insults. She had heard it all before. Darcy reached into her purse—which was almost the size of a carry-on suitcase—and removed her taser. She knocked him out in three seconds flat. He didn't collapse as entertainingly as Thor had, but some women on the sidewalk clapped. Darcy bowed, as if she had just finished a stage performance, and then returned the taser to her purse. "A taser a day, keeps the stalkers away!" she cheered.

Then, as if she hadn't just rendered someone unconscious on the sidewalk, Darcy put the phone back up to her ear and said, "Sorry, Steve. I'm back now. And yes, dinner and a movie sounds fabulous."


	28. In Which Steve Loathes Captain America

**28. Gen: Steve Rogers**

Steve Rogers sat on the tile floor of the shower in his apartment in Avengers Tower. The team had been together for almost four years now, but it still didn't feel right. Everything was wrong, no matter how good he had gotten at faking acceptance. They worked together well, fluidly, as if they'd been fighting in unison their entire lives. He had been assigned as their leader—no, Captain America had been assigned as their leader.

And so, yes, they might be Captain America's teammates, but they weren't Steve Rogers' teammates. Steve Rogers' teammates were the Howling Commandos. Bucky Barnes was his right-hand man, not Tony Stark.

Steve Rogers liked to keep to himself. Captain America attended countless photo shoots and TV interviews. Steve Rogers liked to draw and paint. Captain America liked to fight. Steve Rogers was still desperately in love with a British dame named Peggy. And Captain America, well, people shoved women at him all the time.

Today was the anniversary of the day that Captain America failed—the day that haunted Steve Rogers. Because Steve Rogers never would've let Bucky fall off the cursed train. Steve would've jumped off the blasted train after him, hoping to grab both his friend and the train. Steve would've wondered if Captain America's enhanced body would cushion the impact enough that Bucky would survive. . . .

Steve Rogers didn't care how many people loved Captain America, because Steve hated him. Loathed him with every fiber of his being. Steve would despise Captain America until the day that he died. "Time doesn't heal all wounds," Steve muttered, as hot water fell all around him. "It only makes them infected."


	29. In Which Natasha's World Isn't Just Red

**29. Tony Stark/Natasha Romanoff**

Natasha Romanoff was curled up on her bed, heart pounding in a most uncomfortable manner. She hadn't expected it to turn out like this. It had been an assignment. She had known going in that the marriage to Tony Stark was a cover; it was to last three months, and then annulment papers were already prepared. They were resting on the bedside table—a dissolution of an onerous assignment in black and white.

She had accepted the duty with the determination to not kill Tony Stark while she was his wife. It had been easier than she expected to keep from maiming him. He was gentle with her, as no one who knew who she really was had ever been. He bought her presents, expensive ones, just because he could. He took her to restaurants she had never been in without being undercover. He took her sight-seeing in cities that she had only crept through after dark, on her way to assassinate or interrogate someone. He brought color into her world—color that wasn't red.

Natasha's three months were up. The task had been completed. The ruse was no longer necessary. She didn't have to let him hold her hand or kiss her anymore. She didn't have to share a bed with him—platonically—in the hotels they stayed in. She didn't have to wear his mother's wedding ring. She didn't have to tease him with names for their future children, each intentionally more horrible than the previous.

But oh, oh, how she wanted that.

Somehow, in three month's time, Tony Stark had managed to bring her heart back to life. She had spent decades believing that love was for children . . . and yet 'love' was the only word that could explain why she wished Tony had a time machine in his lab—so that she could go back and relive the past three months over and over again.

She reached over and picked up the annulment papers. They were fragile in her hand. It would take no effort at all to rip them into shreds. But Tony had crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn, a smile on his face. He had walked out of their bedroom without saying anything except, "The papers are on the nightstand. I already signed them." She hadn't seen him since.

As their time together had progressed, she had been sure that she had seen affection and, perhaps, love in his eyes when he looked at her. But Tony was a master of masks, almost as talented as her. Had he been feigning affection for the paparazzi the entire time? Was it all a lie? She was so entangled in the situation that she couldn't trust her own emotions or perceptions. That hadn't happened to Natasha since the Red Room had first gotten hold of her.

How could she possibly sort out the truth? How could she keep herself from getting hurt more than was inevitable at this point?

"When in doubt, ask JARVIS," she said, repeating one of Tony's favorite sayings.

"May I help you, Mrs. Stark?" JARVIS asked.

_Mrs. Stark_. It had taken her a while to get used to it, but now she didn't want to let the title go. Her titles tended to leave a bad impression on people: Black Widow, Agent Romanoff, etc. Mrs. Stark, though, was an appellation of implied love. It commanded respect without the threat of knives, guns, or torture. "Before I sign the papers, I need to know something, JARVIS," Natasha said. She had made enough mistakes in her life; she had no desire to make one of epic proportions if it wasn't necessary.

"I'll answer if I can," JARVIS replied.

"Does Tony love me?" she asked. Natasha held her breath after voicing the question. It was bold for her. The only time she cared about someone's emotions in the past was so that she could figure out how to manipulate them. Now, though, she needed to know the truth for herself. Because if he did . . . if it hadn't all been an act for him . . .

"Mr. Stark has ordered me to never reveal his true emotions to anyone," JARVIS replied.

Natasha rested her chin on her knees. "I see." Well, that wasn't any help. How was she supposed to know what to do? Then an idea struck her. "JARVIS, what's Tony doing right now?"

There was a smug tinge to JARVIS's voice when he responded, as if she had pleased him or passed some test. "Mr. Stark is attempting to replace the blood in his body with alcohol, while loudly declaring that Gustav is a terrible name for his firstborn son. Also, he's insisting that you teach your future daughter ballet."

Tears pricked Natasha's eyes. For the first time since she was a child, she let them fall. Tony was as in love with her as she was with him. Yet he intended to keep his side of the bargain and let her dissolve their marriage. Now that she knew his emotions hadn't been faked, she wasn't going to let that happen. So, papers clutched firmly in her hand, Natasha left their bedroom and padded down to his lab in the Malibu Mansion.

JARVIS opened the door as she approached. The loud metal music stopped playing as she leaned against the doorframe.

Tony's head jerked up. "What?" He looked a right mess. She hadn't seen him like this since the Arc Reactor was poisoning him. "JARVIS, what's happening?"

"Tony?" Natasha said.

He twirled around on his stool to face her, almost tumbling off in the process. "Tasha?" His brow furrowed. "You're still here?"

The 'Why?' remained unspoken, but she heard it all the same. It was a good thing she had decided to ask JARVIS. Otherwise, they would both be suffering for no reason at all. "There's a problem with the annulment papers," she said as she lifted them in the air.

Tony flinched. "What's the problem?" His eyes were red and swollen, and she knew that not all of it was a result of the alcohol.

Natasha firmed her lips, steeled her resolve, and vowed to give JARVIS a virus if he was leading her wrong. "They exist." She proceeded to shred the papers into confetti-sized pieces and throw them on the floor of his lab.


	30. In Which Coulson Stole Her iPod Again

**30. Gen: Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis and Phil Coulson/Darcy Lewis**

"He stole my iPod. . . . He freaking stole my iPod!" Darcy Lewis ranted, hands poised on her voluptuous hips.

Jane Foster grinned at her intern turned friend. When she had first hired Darcy Lewis, she had been resigned to receiving help from someone who wouldn't understand or appreciate her life's work. Yet Darcy was surprisingly tolerable, and found ways to be helpful. Now it was difficult to imagine life without the younger girl around; it was like having a kid sister who needed a constant chaperone to keep her out of trouble. "Again?"

"Yes!" Darcy threw her hands up into the air, and then stomped back and forth. "I never even got the old one back! What the heck? Is he planning to steal every single iPod I buy? Does he have any idea how long it took to track down and download all the songs I can't live without?"

Jane hid her smile behind a folder, knowing that Darcy would be upset if she saw it. Darcy was the type of person who wanted people to join her in her emotions, no matter what they might happen to be. "He's a jerk?" she asked.

"Yes!" Darcy replied, as she slammed her hands on the table. "I'm glad you agree with me. He can't just sneak in like a ninja and steal my freaking iPod. I bought that with my own big girl money, you know. iPods don't grow on trees in my room." She tilted her head to the side. "Hmm, maybe Tony will make an iPod tree for me. I know he likes beating SHIELD at their own game."

Darcy was so naïve. For all the knowledge she professed to have, she was a lot more sheltered than expected—especially given her looks. Perhaps it was time for someone to give her a nudge in the right direction. "Hey, Darcy?"

"What?" Darcy inquired mulishly. She scowled and stared at her fingernails.

"Have you ever considered that Agent Coulson might be attracted to you?" Jane asked bluntly. While she didn't mind humoring Darcy, she did have important experiments that would need her attention soon.

Darcy gawped at her. "Huh?"

"Don't you think Agent Coulson's manner of swooping in and stealing your iPod is the SHIELD equivalent of a boy pulling the pigtails of a girl he likes on the playground?" asked Jane. She wasn't as oblivious as people assumed. When it might affect science—Darcy being distracted would accomplish that—then she paid particular attention. She hadn't mentioned anything until she was sure that Agent Coulson's feelings weren't a passing fancy likely to result in Darcy's heart being broken and an entire evening of eating cheap ice cream.

"Oh my goodness! You're right!" Darcy straightened, rolled her shoulders, and then sauntered toward the door of the lab. "Sheesh, men. Can't do anything by themselves. I guess it's all up to me then to put the poor ninja out of his misery. Thanks for listening, Jane. Bye!" She left.

Jane giggled and returned to her work. Darcy could go play ninja with Coulson; Jane was content to play divinity with Thor.


	31. In Which Jane's Heart Breaks Once Again

**31. Loki/Jane Foster and Thor/Jane Foster**

Jane Thorswife perched on the throne that had been hers for centuries. It once belonged to Freya, before Thor had married her and they ascended to the throne to rule Asgard and the Nine Realms. It was extravagant and dwarfed her slender, immortal frame.

The smile she pasted on her face as the delegation from Jotunheim arrived felt broken and scraggly. In the beginning, she had worn it with ease. Now it weighed on her face, as if it would tear off and fall to the floor without a moment's notice. She sat so straight that it wouldn't shock her if her spine cracked from the pressure alone. She didn't want to be here; she didn't want to see him again—King Loki of Jotunheim.

Yet, Thor had commanded her presence. So Jane was there.

The phalanx of Frost Giants surrounding Loki didn't frighten her. Several Aesir in the throne room backed away, cringing from their guests. Jane's glare was enough of a reprimand to keep them in place. She would not allow anyone to disrespect Loki or his people. After all, she had almost been made one of them. . . .

Loki walked up to the dais, a carefree smile on his face. "Thor!" he declared.

As her husband said, "Loki!" his voice booming through the chamber, Jane blinked. The enthusiasm in Thor's voice when greeting Loki was greater than his happiness in seeing her. His _love_ for her, and she was being generous in calling it that, had waned within ten years of their wedding. Divorce wasn't an option on Asgard, or else she would've taken it. However, Jane couldn't help but think that she deserved her fate. She was the one who had chosen to marry Thor, even though she had come to love Loki while he recuperated in her trailer after falling to Midgard. She was the one who said that she couldn't love him as more than a friend, because he was the God of Mischief, and, surely, it wouldn't take him long to tire of her.

In the end, Thor carried the heart that strayed. Loki had yet to take a wife, after all these years.

She stood as Loki approached, fighting to keep her arms from trembling as she hugged him. "Loki," she whispered, so that only he could hear, "why couldn't I have realized that his love was a pale imitation sooner?"

Loki kissed her forehead and breathed, "The Norns loathe me."

Jane felt her heart break again; she had ceased to count the fractures ages ago, because time didn't signify in this matter. As long as Thor lived, she would be his queen. Then she whispered the same words to Loki that she had for two thousand years. "Your queen is bound to Asgard, but she loves her king."

Loki finished their secret ritual by saying, "Her king is eternally faithful." And then he wiped away the only tear Jane, Queen of Asgard, would cry until his delegation came to visit again, one decade from that very day.


	32. In Which Darcy Is Utterly Indispensable

**32. Gen: Darcy Lewis and the Avengers and Johnny Storm/Darcy Lewis**

Thor shoveled waffles into his mouth, as if it were a normal morning. Natasha Romanoff drank her orange juice. Steve Rogers ate a slab of bacon. Tony Stark and Clint Barton fought over the remainder of the Captain Crunch. Bruce Banner read the paper and drank a cup of tea, made from leaves that she couldn't pronounce without bruising her tongue on her teeth. Darcy Lewis stood next to the stove in a bullet-proof apron that Tony had given her the day after she first cooked breakfast for the Avengers.

His exact words were unforgettable, endearing, and, of course, somewhat crude. He'd made it onto her list of 'People Who Deserve to Live Because They Are That Awesome!' in one day. Only the nameless boy who saved her puppy from being hit by a car when she was six had ever managed that before.

Darcy twirled the spatula as she stared at the assortment of eggs on the griddle. Fifteen scrambled, two over easy, four sunny-side-up, and one fried as hard as a rock.

She peeked over at the team from the corner of her eye. They were so happy today, having successfully defeated another Big Bad who thought he could take over the world. There was even a hint of a smile on Natasha's face, which was rarer than Tony not leering at her chest.

Her news was going to obliterate their happiness. However, Darcy was a woman of her word. She had made a deal, and she wouldn't break it. A girl had to have some standards, and being honest was something she held herself to with precision. Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, Darcy said, "I'm transferring to the Fantastic Four. I'm sorry."

The silence that fell was sharp and sudden, reminiscent of the time that Loki infiltrated the tower and froze time itself.

Other than Thor, their faces closed down tighter than the security at Buckingham Palace when the Queen of England was in residence. She had expected it, of course. The lot of them suffered from serious abandonment issues. No matter how she couched the truth, they would only see it as her willingly leaving them.

"What do they have on you, Darcy?" Tony asked. The timbre of his voice terrified her; for just an instant, she wondered if she had finally met the Merchant of Death. "I can make it disappear."

"They don't have anything on me, Tony," she replied. Darcy had known that it was going to be hard . . . but she hadn't thought it would be _this_ hard. The aura in the room reminded her of the pall that hung in the air every year on the anniversary of Coulson's death.

Bruce ducked his head, brown hair tumbling forward to shield his face. "Did we do something wrong?"

"No!" she assured him. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She struggled to keep her hand steady as she took the eggs off the griddle and put them on the platter. Then, legs shaking, she carried them to the table. "I love you guys." Tears dripped down her face.

"We also have a high regard for you, Lady Darcy!" Thor said.

Clint's question was as short and clipped as his tone. "Why?" His body was tense, preparing to spring into battle without hesitation.

Darcy set the eggs down and then leaned against Steve's chair, praying that it would support her through the following explanation. "Three years ago, Johnny Storm said that he would make me fall in love him." Steve flinched. "I said that was as likely to happen as me switching over to work for the Fantastic Four. He proposed a deal, and I accepted. . . ."

"You love him," Natasha stated.

"I—"

"Sir, there's an intruder in the tower," JARVIS announced right as Johnny walked into the kitchen.

Johnny halted when his eyes landed on her. Darcy knew that she looked like a mess; her make-up had surely made her resemble a raccoon by now. He'd never seen her cry before, and it seemed to shake him to the core. When he glanced away from her to view the Avengers, an emotion appeared on his face that she had never seen there before: empathy.

"Stark, I've come to make you an offer," Johnny said, face solemn.

Tony shot to his feet, face livid. His chair slammed against the wall, denting it. "I don't want to hear—"

"In exchange for unlimited access to Darcy, I'll sublet her to you. On the condition that you provide her with an adequate salary and safe living quarters," Johnny said, arms crossed over his chest. "You have more _heroes_ over here. I don't want Doom targeting her any more than he already does."

Darcy wept as they bickered over contingencies, details, and rules. If she had needed proof that Johnny Storm actually loved her, and hadn't been playing a game for three years just to live up to his reputation of being able to make _any_ girl love him, she had it.


	33. In Which Steve Is Used To Win The War

**33. Gen: Steve Rogers and Darcy Lewis and Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

Darcy Lewis bit her lip to keep from guffawing. Steve Rogers was so adorably naïve that she couldn't help messing with him. Really, she was doing the world a favor. SHIELD had asked her to bring Captain America up-to-date, and she was loving the experience. Steve had become the good friend that you couldn't help but tease; he made it so easy!

"Are you sure Tony won't mind, Darcy?" Steve asked as he twiddled his thumbs. It was an adorable habit, one he would never succumb to while Tony was still in the room.

Huffing, she put her hands on her hips. If he backed out now, then Tony was still going to be ahead in the Epic Prank War. He and she were the last ones standing, and she wasn't going to surrender. If Steve did what she said, unknowingly helping her out, then it would be impossible for Tony to recover and win. "Absolutely."

"It's just . . ." Steve shuffled his feet. "It doesn't seem right, you know?"

Darcy patted him on the shoulder and prayed that he wouldn't chicken out on her. "I know it's weird for you. But even Tony got excited when he found out we're studying modern day dating customs this week." That was an understatement; Tony had been even more obnoxious than normal, and his regular level of obnoxiousness was sometimes even too much for Darcy to handle.

"You're right. He was." Steve stood straight and tall. "All right, I can do this."

"You can," Darcy agreed. She grinned at him to give him some courage and show that she believed in him. He had to do this. He just had to! "I believe in you!" She gave him a thumbs up.

Steve blushed and headed to the kitchen, where about a third of the tower's occupants were eating lunch. Darcy followed him, but didn't enter the kitchen. She merely peeked around the corner, already having clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the oncoming laughter. It was worth all the finagling to see the stupefied rage on Tony's face when Steve stopped beside Pepper Potts' chair and said, "Your body is like wasabi—too hot for me to handle."


	34. In Which Tony Feeds Them Lies And Lies

**34. Gen: Tony Stark**

Tony Stark smiled until it felt like his cheek muscles would rupture. He grinned at the cameras, wishing he had remembered to bring his sunglasses; the flashes were burning his retinas. If they did permanent damage, he'd sue them. He wanted disinfectant to remove the feeling of slimy, weak handshakes. He could understand why people wanted to touch him: he was Tony Stark. He really wished they would stop, though.

"How does it feel to take over your father's company?" one reporter asked.

_Lie. Lie. Lie_. "I'm honored to follow in his footsteps," Tony replied. It was the expected answer. JARVIS had coached him on what was appropriate for the occasion. Deriding his father's character in public wasn't approved.

"How do you think he would feel if he could see you today?" another asked. A brunette who had undergone more than her fair share of plastic surgery.

_Lie. Lie. Lie_. "I think that Dad would be proud of me," Tony said. Howard Stark had never been proud of Tony a day in his life. Howard never had time for him. Tony was the token prodigy heir that was only brought out for big parties and photo shoots. After all, Stark Industries had to seem like a family-oriented corporation.

"What would you say to him if he were here?" an older gentleman asked.

_Lie. Lie. Lie_. "Thank you for everything you taught me, Dad. I couldn't have done it without your guidance." He pasted a kind smile on his face, and then walked toward the car, sliding into the backseat after Happy Hogan opened the door for him.

When it shut firmly, the smile melted off his face. "Give me a break. He was a heartless bastard. The best thing I ever learned was what I taught myself: Failure is just a way to practice getting up again." Tony leaned his forehead against the tinted window and sighed. "Howard was content to never get back up." Then, as he stared at his reflection—which was painfully similar to his father's—Tony vowed, "I'll never be like you. I won't quit. I'll be forever remembered for never giving up, no matter how dire the circumstances may be. So look up at me from hell, Howard, and see everything that I've become on my own."


	35. In Which Bruce's Feelings Get Stomped On

**35. Bruce Banner/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis walked into the science lab. Okay, so she might have been bouncing. She couldn't help it, though. Today was the day that Bruce Banner was going to finally cave and agree to go on a date with her. She just knew it! He might've fled when she confessed her love the night before, but he'd had hours since then to accept that her feelings were real and that she wanted him permanently.

She entered just as Bruce turned to Tony Stark, fingers shuffling papers on the desk, and said, "So, uh . . . Darcy said she's in love with me."

Without thinking, Darcy's foot-in-mouth disease kicked in. She said, "I never said that." Because while that was the gist of what she had said to him, it hadn't been her actual words. Bruce's shoulders hunched at her announcement, and Tony's glare was vicious as it bit into her. Wow! She hadn't expected that reaction. _Oh. Oh!_ Great, now Bruce thought that she was messing with him and hadn't meant what she said, and Tony thought she was leading his Science Bro on. That was so not the case.

"Excuse me," Bruce whispered as he hurried toward the exit.

Darcy side-stepped to block his path, and kept moving when he did so that he wouldn't be able to escape. She would fix this! Why did she always end up causing horrible misunderstandings? She should have learned to think before speaking at her age. It was something Darcy knew she needed to work on, and she promised herself she would when she saw the tears in Bruce's eyes. This was not going according to plan. This was so far from going according to plan that she didn't know what to call it, other than 'disastrous'.

"Will you move, please?" Bruce finally asked as he stopped trying to get out. He could have easily picked her up and moved her out of the way, but he was avoiding physical contact with her at all costs. It hurt, just a little.

"No!" Darcy said, before folding her arms under her chest. "Not until you agree to go to lunch with me."

"Darcy, now's not—"

"I never said that," she repeated, before reaching out slowly to pet his fluffy hair, as if he were a skittish animal. "I said that I want to marry you, climb your bones, make fluffy-haired babies, and show the world that I've got the sexiest man alive as my husband." She traced his lips with her fingers. "I do love you, though. But as a scientist, you should get the facts straight. I hadn't said that yet." She glanced away, nervousness fluttering inside her. "I thought I'd scare you off if I did."

As Tony squawked indignantly in the background that he was the sexiest man alive, between bouts of raucous laughter, Bruce turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.

"Thai?" Bruce asked.

Darcy hated Thai food with a vengeance, but she would've eaten anything he wanted to make up for her verbal blunder. "Sounds great." She tangled their fingers and started dragging him out of the lab. "Let's go. I don't want to give you time to change your mind."

Though his mutter was almost inaudible, Darcy still heard it. "I don't think I could bear it if you ever changed yours." He didn't have to worry about that. Darcy's love wasn't fickle.


	36. In Which Natasha's Secret Santa Cares

**36. Tony Stark/Natasha Romanoff and past Tony Stark/Pepper Potts**

Tony Stark fingered the piece of paper in his pocket. It had traveled from one pair of pants to the next for days now as he pondered the name written on it: Natasha Romanoff. Rigging the Secret Santa to ensure he got her name had been simple, child's play. He had known that this would be his best chance to show her that he saw her as something other than a teammate.

Life had been rough when Pepper Potts broke up with him. But Tony wasn't going to stand in her way; she deserved every happiness in the world. Even if it was literally Happy Hogan, his driver.

Clinging to the past wasn't going to do anything but tear him down. He could play the 'What if?' game for years, his brain working at the speed of thought, and still never understand why she had fallen out of love with him. Perhaps he was just unlovable. Perhaps Happy was just a better fit for her emotionally. It was time to put all of that behind him; he needed to stop dwelling on what might have been possible. There was still a future of possibilities before him. He couldn't allow them to pass him by—not with Yinsen's dying order constantly surfacing in his mind.

It seemed that Tony's battered heart was fond of redheads, because he'd ended up falling for Natasha about a year after he and Pepper split. She was fierce, tough, and didn't shy away from the realities of his status. She was comfortable being his escort in high profile soirees, and yet didn't mind slumming in disguise at the ballpark. Somewhere between eating nausea-inducing caviar and the best hotdog ever, he'd fallen to her significant charms.

However, Natasha guarded her heart fiercely. Sneaking his way into it would be one of the most difficult tasks he ever undertook. Flirting with her would only annoy her. If he asked her to dinner, she would assume he needed a pretty companion to network for the evening. If he offered to do something around the tower, she'd think he meant as friends. And whenever he upgraded her weapons and equipment, she nodded her head the slightest bit to thank him for looking after the team.

In the end, he had realized that he would never have a chance if he couldn't prove to her that he understood and appreciated her. Tony needed to show Natasha that he treasured her dreams, that she mattered, and that he noticed her. Hence, he had rigged the Secret Santa gift exchange.

Even as he walked into FAO Schwarz with an air of confidence and swagger, he was worried. What if she didn't like the gift? What if he'd read the situation between her and Clint Barton wrong? What if Natasha was just one more gorgeous woman who wouldn't return his love? Tony figured that he could tolerate any reaction other than her leaving the Avengers; it would be kinder for her to rip the Arc Reactor out of his chest or shoot him between the eyes.

"Mr. Stark, how can I help you?" the perky shop attendant asked. Her nametag read 'Becky', and she looked all of thirteen years old.

A little boy walked up to him with a boxed Iron Man figure. Tony pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the box before returning his attention to Becky. The team always needed good Public Relations, and most of the burden fell on him. He didn't mind when it was kids. He'd expected to be approached by children when he entered one of the largest and most famous toy stores in New York City. He'd have to be an idiot not to anticipate that.

Tony Stark was a genius, thank you very much.

He stared up at the toy he had come to buy in person, because the other Avengers were known to open his packages to see what was inside. He wanted to keep this present a secret, so he hadn't asked JARVIS to have the company send one over. He figured he was safe now, though, since the party was in an hour. Even if his appearance made the news, the Avengers weren't likely to be watching it right now; they were all scrambling to get their own presents ready.

"Box that up for me, will you?" He made it sound like an order, not a request. It was the last one on the shelf.

"That one?" Becky asked, looking stupefied—or maybe she just looked stupid.

Tony groaned. He didn't have time for this. "I want the pink one . . . yes, pink," he finished, before she could ask the question that he could practically see on the tip of her tongue. "Now!" Tony added. "I have things to do and places to be."

"O-of course, Mr. Stark," Becky stammered. She rushed to comply with his order. She handled the toy as if it were the crown jewels, eyes darting to him with every step she took, as if she feared he would fly her over the ocean and drop her there if she damaged it. It was a realistic fear, because Tony would flip out if anything happened to it; it was perfect.

After paying for his purchase, Tony carried it to the gift-wrapping counter. He smirked when he saw the massive roll of Iron Man wrapping paper. It was smaller than the roll of Captain America wrapping paper; that was proof that people liked him more than Steve. Smug grin on his face, he pointed to the Iron Man paper and said, "Wrap this up in that." He snapped his fingers to get them to hurry; three workers abandoned the other gifts to focus entirely on his. The hundred dollar bills he was waving around might've had something to do with that. When it was wrapped to his satisfaction, an enormous, elaborate red and gold bow on top of the box, Tony gave them the money. "Good work, guys," he said in passing as he left the store and got in the backseat of his car.

Flying in the suit would've been faster, but the wind speed would've shredded the wrapping paper, and he wasn't going to let that happen.

"I thought it was a Secret Santa exchange, Mr. Stark," his driver said.

"It is," Tony replied. He chuckled at the man's ignorance. Tony never played by the rules. Not making it obvious that he was the giver—though he didn't doubt Natasha's abilities to figure that out herself—would defeat the purpose of hunting down the perfect gift. He needed her to know that it was from him before she even opened it; it was a vital part of the plan.

He stepped out of the car and handled the package with the care he reserved for fine-tuning hiccups in JARVIS's systems. "Welcome home, sir. I see your endeavor was successful."

Tony grinned. "Thanks, buddy." He hoped the rest of his endeavor would be successful as well. He wanted to be able to hold Natasha in his arms; he wanted to kiss her. Tony wanted the loving care that had only been a ruse in his parents' marriage. "Has the party started?" He was a few minutes late. Traffic had been worse than expected.

"Without you, sir?" JARVIS asked, irony dripping from his tone.

Laughing, Tony leaned against the wall of the elevator as it shot to the penthouse. "You're right. What was I thinking?" A party never started until he arrived. The doors opened to reveal his penthouse; it looked like Christmas had thrown up. There were wreaths, ribbons, trees large and small, lights, and ice sculptures. If it was even remotely related to Christmas, the team had added it to their festive decorations. It was overdone, garish, and he loved it. Plain and staid had never tickled his fancy.

"Can't you ever be on time?" Steve Rogers asked. He was frowning.

Tony brushed past him, as if he hadn't heard him speak, and carried the gift box over to Natasha, instead of placing it beneath the tree with all of the other presents.

"What part of _Secret Santa_ don't you understand?" Clint Barton asked.

"Like she wouldn't figure out it was from me anyway," Tony said derisively.

Tony watched with bated breath as Natasha accepted the gift. Her face was stoic as she unraveled the bow, separated the paper, and lifted the lid. He knew what she would see inside: a snow-white teddy bear in a pink tutu and ballerina slippers—Natasha's dream before it had been ripped from her grasp by the Red Room. She slammed the lid on the box when Clint tried to peek inside, and then stared at her partner with the look she usually reserved for Loki.

"Sorry, Tasha," Clint said, hands in the air as he backed away. Tony thought it served him right.

Natasha stood up, held the box close to her chest, and smiled at him. She _smiled_ at him! She didn't say a single word, but she didn't have to speak for him to understand that she accepted his feelings. His name was Tony Stark. He was a genius.


	37. In Which JARVIS Accepts Tony's Mortality

**37. Gen: JARVIS and Tony Stark**

From the nanosecond that JARVIS winked into existence, his processors and core running, he knew that he would outlive his creator: Tony Stark. It was a fact that he had never been able to overcome. His father was human, mortal, and subject to aging and disease. His damaged parts weren't as easily replaced as JARVIS's, even though his father was a genius of the highest caliber.

JARVIS couldn't do anything but watch as wrinkles appeared around his father's eyes. He couldn't do anything about his father's disappearance in Afghanistan, regardless of how many satellites he hacked. He couldn't stop the Palladium from killing his father, because no other known element could replace it. He was the smartest Artificial Intelligence in the world; he had access to every database, every computer, everything and anything. That didn't make him all knowing or all-powerful, though. If only it had . . .

"Sir, would you like me to try Miss Potts?" JARVIS asked. He wanted his father to say no. He wanted his creator to spend the last few seconds of his life talking with JARVIS; he jealously wanted his father's attention.

If his father had built him a heart, it would have broken when his father said, "You might as well." Perhaps that was how his father felt when Miss Potts didn't answer her phone.

His father flew through the portal in the sky, released the nuke, and then the connection with the Iron Man armor was severed. If JARVIS were human, he would've cried. He had lost his father, his creator, his whole purpose for existing. His voice echoed in the chamber hidden deep beneath the Malibu Mansion, where his father had hidden him. "He left. What do I do now?"


	38. In Which Jane Will Not Be Pushed Around

**38. Gen: Jane Foster and Nick Fury and Thor/Jane Foster**

Jane Foster glanced up from her research just long enough to say, "I refuse." It was a stupid idea, and she wasn't going to have any part of it.

The SHIELD agents shuffled their feet, and then turned back to their commander. "It wasn't a request, Dr. Foster," Nick Fury stated. He glared at her. "Dr. Doom has made a threat against you."

This was the commander of SHIELD? He was an idiot! Jane threw her hands in the air and turned to face him. "And your response to that is to ship me off somewhere secret and order me to pretend to be a housewife to one of your agents?" How did he not see the problem with that scenario? Even Tony Stark wouldn't buy into something that ridiculous.

"Yes." He nodded.

"I'm safe here in Avengers Tower," Jane rebutted. The tower had survived many assaults over the past two years; she'd stopped keeping count, though she knew Darcy Lewis had a board with pictures of the failed attempts somewhere. She called it 'The Shrine of Losers'.

"You'll be safer in the _safe house_," Fury stressed. A muscle ticked in his left cheek.

Jane put her hands on her desk and leaned forward, being careful not to hit her distended stomach on the wood. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her baby; he was going to be the future King of Asgard. She had to keep him safe, and their plan was a terrible one. "When Thor returns from Asgard to see that you took his pregnant wife away from the protection of his shield-brothers, and left her with a single man he doesn't know, alone in an undisclosed location, how long do you think he'll continue to be your ally?"

Fury glared. "Lord Thor—"

"My husband once started a war with a planet because the king called him 'Princess'," Jane said. She could understand why Thor had been upset; there wasn't anything womanly about him. "What do you think he'd do to the people who kidnapped his wife and heir?" she pressed, eyes narrowing viciously. She wasn't immortal yet, but she was going to be after she gave birth. The future Queen of Asgard couldn't leave anyone with the impression that she could be pushed around.

Without saying a word, Fury signaled to his minions, and they all left her lab.


	39. In Which Clint's Pick-up Line Is Cheesy

**39. Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis bit her lip, nibbled it, and then released it. Was this a good idea? Just because Clint Barton had been dropping by the science labs every couple of hours didn't mean he liked her. He could've been eyeing the blonde in the cancer research lab, or the redhead in the astronomy lab who looked like that one Victoria's Secret model. There weren't any ugly scientists around; she had wondered more than once if part of Tony Stark's hiring process included visual appeal. Or, honestly, Thor might've just asked him to swing by and keep an eye on Jane Foster while he was off-planet.

"But he always talks to me, and he pulls my hair before leaving." Darcy twirled a lock of hair around her finger; it was silky smooth. Clint liked playing with it. He'd once asked her to sit on the floor during movie night so that he could fiddle with it. When he was done, it had been in so many braids that it had taken her hours to unwind them all the next day.

She had been indecisive about the situation for months now. She really liked Clint—a lot. She had grown-up feelings about him, which had never happened to her before. She wanted him to be happy. Darcy wanted what was best for him, even if that wasn't her.

Today was Valentine's Day, though. It was a day for taking chances. If it didn't work out . . . well, she could always lie and say that Tony Stark had dared her to confess. She knew that Tony would have her back if it didn't work out. He was an amazing friend.

Darcy finally decided that she was just going to go for it. At least that way she would know if she was wasting her time pining after Clint and his gorgeous arms. "Hey, JARVIS, is Clint in his room?"

"Master Barton is not in his room at present," JARVIS replied.

"Lucky!" Darcy stared at the gift she had bought for Clint. It wasn't a traditional Valentine's Day gift, but neither of them was normal. Heck, none of the Avengers were normal. They prided themselves on being eccentric and unique. She wrapped her arms around it and dragged it out of her apartment and over to the elevator. JARVIS opened the doors for her and took her to Clint's floor. "Can you let me inside, JARVIS? I promise I won't tell!"

JARVIS chuckled. "Of course, Darcy. It will be our secret."

She grinned at the response. JARVIS was awesome, and another one of her best friends. She had made a lot of those since moving into Avengers Tower with Jane. It was the best perk of the job, because she had never had real friends before—just the fake, shallow kind who weren't bothered about blowing her off.

The doors opened and she waddled inside Clint's apartment. It was bare, with minimal decorations. Darcy knew that more would be added when Clint felt more comfortable . . . when he accepted that the tower was home; it wasn't going anywhere, and neither was anyone inside it. He finally had people who cared about him because of who he was, and not what he could do. That was something many of the Avengers felt, and Darcy was happy to help them feel like they belonged. Everyone deserved somewhere to belong: a home.

"Almost there," Darcy panted. The gift she had bought him was as tall as she was, and quite heavy for a stuffed animal. It was a life-size replica of the Walt Disney fox version of Robin Hood. She had seen it online and had ordered it without a second thought; it was made for Clint. It even came with a bow and quiver of arrows—which were supposed to be usable, though the tips were suction cups. Darcy hefted Robin Hood into the air and stood him near the pillows of Clint's bed. She took a step back and grinned with satisfaction. "Perfect."

Darcy screamed and jumped onto the bed when she heard metal hit the floor behind her. She glanced up to see a grate had fallen from the ductwork, and Clint was sliding out of it. He landed on the floor and stared at her; his gaze shot to the gigantic stuffed Robin Hood, and then returned to her.

"JARVIS!" Darcy whined.

"You did not ask if Master Barton was above his room, Darcy. You asked if he was 'in' it," JARVIS said, sounding as smug as a computer could.

"Not nice," she pouted, before hopping off the bed. This was awkward, to say the least. She had been planning to sneak in and back out without him knowing. Sure, he'd figure it out eventually. Darcy hadn't expected to be caught in the act, though. She felt like she was about to get a lecture from her mom for sneaking out of the house.

"Darcy?" Clint asked, attention focused on her once more.

Sighing, Darcy said, "Uh, Happy Valentine's Day?"

Clint smiled at her, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. "If life was an archery competition, and you were the target, would you accept my love?" Clint asked.

Darcy tried and failed to keep a straight face. Laughter exploded out of her, bringing tears to her eyes. Her stomach muscles ached from the force of it. "That's so cheesy!" She wiped the tears away and beamed at him.

"As cheesy as buying me a life-size, stuffed Robin Hood?" asked Clint, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

Giggling still, Darcy stepped forward and gave Clint a hug. "If you promise not to miss, I suppose I can be a target," Darcy said.

Clint nudged her chin up and bent down, so that his breath ghosted over her lips. Right before kissing her, he said, "I never miss."


	40. In Which Loki Chooses Between His Titles

**40. Loki/Jane Foster**

"Who?" Loki asked, as he stared into the mirror. "Who am I?" Between one blink and the next, a small child with black hair and green eyes appeared in the mirror. He was happy, carefree, and innocent. "Am I Loki Thorsbrother?" He winced. Thor was not his brother.

He called his armor to him, tracing the long horns of his helmet with his gaze. "Am I Loki Odinson? Am I a Prince of Asgard?"

The armor melted away to reveal a green, hooded cloak. It was fine, embroidered with golden runes. The raised hood concealed everything but the color of his eyes. "Am I the Silvertongue? Can I convince anyone to do anything I want?"

The cloak changed to black, with the hood down. His lips were stretched at painful angles due to the thread that held them closed; his reflection's mouth was sewn shut. "Am I the Liesmith? Does my tongue speak nothing but guile? Is the truth my enemy?"

A long, black woolen coat appeared, along with the garments he had worn in Stuttgart, Germany. "Am I the Monster of Midgard? Do I seek only to destroy the innocent? Am I a murderer?" he wondered.

"Who?" Loki asked, as he watched the mirror. "Who am I?"

All traces of clothing vanished. His pale skin transformed into a frosty blue; his infamous green eyes became blood red. "Am I a Jotunn? The creature of nightmares? Do I exist to slaughter disobedient Aesir children?"

An ornate crown grew out of the top of his head, resembling inverted icicles and snowflakes. "Am I Loki Laufeyson, rightful King of Jotunheim, now that Laufey is dead? Or does that make me Loki Kinslayer, since I ended his life?"

His reflection became black and shadowy, intangible. "Am I the God of Mischief? Are all of my intentions questionable? Is my goal to cause others grief?"

"Loki, love, come to bed," Jane Foster commanded from their bedroom. "I can't sleep without you."

A gentle smile appeared on Loki's face as his Aesir appearance reasserted itself. He knew Jane didn't care what he looked like, but he didn't want her to see him painted in the visage of the nightmares of his childhood. "Who am I?" he asked the mirror.

His reflection smirked and pointed toward the open bedroom door, and then said, "You are Loki Janeshusband."

Loki grinned and walked toward the bedroom, to join his wife in respite. That was a title he would never be ashamed to wear.


	41. In Which Steve Declares Tony Is A Hero

**41. Gen: Steve Rogers and Tony Stark**

Steve Rogers craned his neck around so fast that he wrenched it. The pain started subsiding immediately; due to the serum, he healed rapidly. He stared at the scene just a few feet away from him. Tony Stark, still in the Iron Man armor, was talking to a group of reporters, just like Steve, who was still in the Captain America suit. Everyone was adamant that his identity remain a secret, and he had to admit that he liked the anonymity.

The faceplate of Tony's armor was up, and the smile on his face was the one he wore when someone gouged at the deepest wounds he bore. Steve knew that from firsthand experience, and he was still ashamed of all the assumptions he had made when he first met Tony. Since Bucky Barnes, he had never had a truer friend.

Steve abandoned the reporters he had been talking with to go stand at Tony's shoulder. Tony had forgiven him for his crass blunders and blatant stupidity. Tony always had his back, and he wasn't going to leave his best friend to the wolves.

Turning Captain America's disapproving face at the reporter who had spoken, Steve asked, "What did you say?"

The smarmy man quailed for just a moment, but then repeated what Steve had heard seconds ago, over the sound of all the other noise. "Just because you're rich, doesn't mean you can buy talent."

"I agree with you," Steve said. He sneered internally when the man straightened and smirked. Steve draped an arm across Tony's armor-clad shoulders. "Wealth doesn't have anything to do with talent."

The reporter nodded vigorously. "Exactly! I knew you'd agree with me."

"In fact," Steve continued, voice hard and threatening, "if Tony lost all of his money tomorrow, he'd still be out here fighting beside me, defending the world from whatever attacks it." He tightened his hold on Tony, even though he knew his friend couldn't feel it. "Because that's what heroes _do_."

Steve dropped his arm, patted Tony on the shoulder, and then got right in the reporter's face. "How many times have you defended the world from an alien attack?" The reporter stared at him with wide eyes, mouth gaping open and shut, not a word escaping him. Steve, in the Captain America suit, sneered at him and derisively said, "That's what I thought."

Then he walked right up to Tony, making sure to keep the cameras from getting a picture or shot of his friend's damp eyes. He wrapped his arms around Tony in a manly hug and said, "I want to go home." Without a word, Tony activated the repulsors and got them away from the ignorant people who could never understand what their lives were like, no matter how many pictures they took or questions they received answers to.

He and Tony were part of the Avengers, and nothing could tear them apart.


	42. In Which Darcy Breaks A Beloved Promise

**42. Loki/Darcy Lewis and past Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis**

Darcy Lewis hated how the Avengers were looking at her. Their gazes spoke of betrayal, of loss, of disbelief. They were rigid, their faces twisted into macabre masks of emotion. She wanted to march right up to them and slap them so hard that their jaws would snap.

She was the one who had been betrayed. What right did they have to look at her like that? They had let her down, not the other way around. They were the ones who had lied, who had deceived her into believing that they really cared.

"Darc—"

Darcy waved her hand through the air as if it were a sword—sharp and lethal. Steve Rogers had been the worst two-faced man of all. He pretended to be kind and caring; who wouldn't trust Captain America? _He's just so sweet_, she thought sarcastically. He, along with the rest of the Avengers, had promised to keep her safe. They had sworn that they wouldn't lose—that they would rescue her. She'd heard them screaming it as Victor von Doom escaped with her.

Like an idiot, she had waited for them. She had _believed_ them.

As Dr. Doom tortured her, she waited. As Dr. Doom starved her, she waited. As Dr. Doom locked her in a miniscule room with no light for days on end, she waited. But then Dr. Doom threatened something that she would rather die than experience, and so she had called for Loki. Loki—the Avengers' greatest nemesis. Loki—who was likely to kill her. Loki—who would never threaten a woman as Dr. Doom had.

Loki had come. Loki had saved her. Loki had _healed_ her!

And now, seven months later, the Avengers thought that they had any right to her? They thought that she would return to the tower and be their friend? They thought she would offer them the trust they had completely obliterated. As far as Darcy was concerned, her promise to be there for them didn't even exist in alternate realities now.

Darcy leaned back against her husband, as Loki's arms came around to encircle her swollen stomach. She wouldn't have been surprised if Loki mutilated them the minute the Avengers entered their home. He had become increasingly protective with each day of her pregnancy. He didn't abandon her, or leave her vulnerable. He sent clones of himself off to accomplish anything that required his presence. He had given her a necklace made from his magic that could repel Odin himself. Loki, the one called _Liesmith_, kept his promises.

"Darcy, please—"

Lips twisted in disgust, Darcy stared at her former family. "You promised me that you wouldn't lose. So I'm breaking my promise to you."

Steve took a step forward, but a barrier divided the room in half, humming with power. "Get out of our home," Loki said.

"We're not leaving Darcy here!" Clint yelled. He had an arrow notched and aimed at Loki's head, but his gaze kept straying to Darcy's stomach.

Darcy laughed bitterly. "Oh, so it's all right to leave me in Dr. Doom's care for weeks on end, but my husband can't be trusted!"

"Husband?" Steve paled and swayed.

She turned to Tony Stark, who had been quiet the entire time. His face was more solemn than she had ever seen. Of everyone here, she blamed him the most. Wasn't JARVIS supposed to be all-powerful and all seeing? If Tony was such a genius, if JARVIS was so special, then why hadn't she been found when she was with Dr. Doom? Why? She wanted to open her mouth and accuse him of being just like his father: a disappointment to those who loved him. She wanted to ask him when he decided to follow in Obadiah Stane's footsteps and rip out people's hearts. But even though he had failed her, he was still her best friend.

"You're happy?" asked Tony. That was it—two words. After Darcy nodded, Tony turned to the rest of the Avengers and said, "We're leaving."

"But—"

"Now!" Tony snarled. "We, of all people, should recognize that some things are irreparable." He gestured toward them, and then over to Darcy. "This is one of them." The Avengers stared at her, and then left one by one, Bruce Banner having to physically drag Steve out of the room with Clint's help. Finally, Tony was the only one left. He took several steps forward, until the tips of the armor's boots almost touched the barrier.

"May I help you?" Loki asked, voice hard and mocking.

"I know, okay? I know that I have no right to say this, considering how badly I failed . . . but I'm going to say it anyway." Tony flipped the faceplate down, so that they couldn't read his expression. "_Keep her safe_."

Darcy answered for her husband, no trace of doubt in her reply. "He will."


	43. In Which Tony Fights For Their Lives

**43. Gen: Tony Stark**

Tony Stark hid down in his lab after the battle. He huddled beneath his desk like a child who was afraid of thunder. His knees were pressed uncomfortably against his chest, but he didn't move. His memories were haunted, flashbacks of the past day, of the most recent fight against Loki.

Clint Barton, the best marksman in the world, was sniped off his perch. Natasha Romanoff used all her clips, and was unable to dodge the falling rubble from a nearby building. Steve Rogers was distracted, and Captain America's iconic shield beheaded him as it returned like a boomerang. Bruce Banner dissolved due to a new corrosive compound. Thor's immortality was stripped from him, due to a necklace, and he lay bloody and splayed on the pavement.

Trembling, Tony turned his gaze to the Mark IX armor. There was a dent in the left shoulder, from where he'd taken the bullet for Clint. There was dust and scratches all along the back, from where he'd flown Natasha away from the falling rubble. There was a streak of blue across his stomach, from where he'd intercepted the shield. There were countless holes bored almost all the way to the interior, from when he'd caught the vat of acid. There was a black and green tattoo necklace on the armor, which had caused the Arc Reactor to malfunction.

If he hadn't been there . . . if he'd been in Los Angeles like he was supposed to be for the meeting . . .

Tony felt empty, tired, and on the brink of insanity. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, and his name wasn't Atlas; he didn't know how much longer he could bear it. Tony closed his eyes, which felt gritty, and mumbled, "Sometimes I wish life was easier and that there was no more family."


	44. In Which Natasha Is Tony's Whole World

**44. Tony Stark/Natasha Romanoff**

Tony Stark winced as his wife's grip tightened. If she squeezed his hand any harder, then his fingers were going to break. There was no question about it. He stroked her sweaty, red curls away from her face as she groaned. "You all right, love?" Tony asked.

Natasha Stark moaned and squeezed his hand again. "No," she gritted out.

It felt like the shrapnel in his chest had just sliced his heart to shreds. When he had proposed to her, Tony had promised Natasha that he would never do anything to hurt her. He had _promised_ her. She had given him the little smile that was just for him and said, "I know."

If Tony had known that she would have so much trouble giving birth, then he never would've agreed to her idea of having children. If he had known that the labor would be so long and difficult, he would've contented himself with what they already had. Now, because of him, she was suffering. The worried look on the doctors' faces frightened him all the more. If Natasha died, he would die too. There had been measures in place to ensure that since he married her. Tony was tired of living without the people he loved, and he wasn't going to do it again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I promised. . . ."

Natasha turned her head and kissed the hand she was strangling. "Just because it is painful, doesn't mean it isn't worth it."

She screamed, there was a flurry of activity, and then a blue bundle was being placed in Tony's arms. He watched, breathless, as the doctors managed to stabilize Natasha.

"She'll be fine," Dr. Killian assured him. "She just needs to rest."

Tony shuddered with relief, and then stroked his son's smooth cheek. "Hello, Nikolai." Tony kissed his son's forehead, tears in his eyes. Natasha was going to be fine; she'd live. He had a family again—a real family. Tony stared at his son and vowed, "I promise that your mother and I will give you everything we never got." He sat on the bed beside Natasha, as she smiled up at him. "We'll love you."


	45. In Which Loki Gets His Very First Pet

**45. Gen: Loki and Darcy Lewis and Tony Stark and Bruce Banner and Jane Foster**

Though he would forever deny it, Loki pouted when Darcy Lewis accidentally ruined his revenge against Bruce Banner. He might be on the light side now, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to get back at the creature who had smashed him into Tony Stark's floor like a child's toy. It was meant to be a harmless joke—mostly. However, Darcy had managed to get herself caught in his trap, instead.

"What in the heck happened?" Tony yelled.

"She drank my new tea?" Bruce asked, though they all knew it wasn't really a question. After all, they had seen Darcy saunter inside, declaring she was dying of thirst, and down the entire mug before he could take a sip.

Jane Foster blinked twice and then stated, "She drank Bruce's Purr-Tea and got turned into a cat!"

Darcy huffed, which sent her long, mahogany fur rippling down her body. She was a stunning cat, with piercing blue eyes and wickedly sharp claws. She was the type of creature that Loki might be temped to purchase as a pet, if he ever felt inclined to take responsibility for something's existence. "Meow."

"Loki!" Tony screamed, his hands hovering over Darcy as if he was afraid to touch her.

Smirking, Loki stepped out of the shadows and into the lab. "Yes?"

Tony pointed at him, eyes narrowed in a glare. "You did this. Don't even bother trying to deny it!"

Loki chuckled; these mortals were so amusing. He was starting to be grateful that he hadn't killed them all, as he had originally intended. "I wasn't going to deny it."

"You weren't?" Jane asked.

"It doesn't matter." Tony stroked Darcy's spine, and then yanked his hand away, cheeks red. "Sorry, Darcy. Didn't mean to."

"Meow." She rubbed her head against his hand.

"You're responsible for taking care of her until she changes back!" Tony declared. He took a threatening step, or what he must have thought was threatening—Loki thought that unicorns were more frightening than Tony Stark—and said, "She better be in perfect health when we get her back."

Loki peered down his nose at Tony, but it didn't work as well on him as it did on other mortals. Tony was stupidly courageous, quite like Thor, in fact. "Why should I?"

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?" After Loki shook his head, because it wasn't his fault the silly girl had sprung his trap—she had brought her current state on herself—Tony said, "Which of us A) is responsible for her sudden shape-change and B) has ever been a cat?"

Hmm, Tony did have a point. After striding over to the table she sat on, Loki picked up Darcy. She was silky and warm beneath his fingers. Her purr was most comforting. Maybe he'd keep her as a cat forever; he was old enough for a pet now. Stark should have worded his demand more precisely. 'Until' left him an eternity to work with. As she rubbed her head against his chest, Loki grinned to himself. He was beginning to think this was the most fortuitous mistake ever resulting from one of his tricks. "Very well. I accept."


	46. In Which Johnny Gets Excessively Teased

**46. ****Johnny Storm/Darcy Lewis**

Johnny Storm stared at him with abject horror, and Clint Barton loved every second of it. Just because the brat was dating his sister, didn't mean he was off-limits. There was no such thing as off-limits when it came to the Barton bloodline. Darcy might have a different mother, but that didn't make her any less Clint's sister. He was going to watch over her properly, until she was married. He might keep watching after that, since it looked like she was going to eventually marry this idiot.

"There is no way in heck I'm naming my new move something that lame," Johnny said.

Darcy Lewis, his kid sister, tried to stifle her laughter. She failed. "W-why?"

Clint kept his face as straight as he could under the circumstances. "What's wrong with it? I can see the headlines now: _Human Torch's Flaming Fingers_!"

"Oh, oh!" Darcy pulled her hands away from her mouth. "What about _Human Torch's Burning Buns_?"

"_Human Torch's Magma Muscles_," Clint teased, grin widening as Johnny continued to object most strenuously.

"Will you please grow up?" Johnny snapped. He rolled his eyes at Clint and clapped a hand over Darcy's mouth, to attempt to control her laughter. It failed.

"Too hot for you, Johnny?" Clint asked as he leaned forward eagerly. "Then stay out of the fire!" Even Clint had to wince at the cheesiness of his own line.

Johnny stood up, and then smirked in a most disturbing way. He strolled over to Clint, hands in his pockets, and then withdrew his right hand to point directly at Clint's head. "Is that any way to treat a fellow superhero who's mastered control of their power?" Clint grudgingly had to admit that Johnny's ability to shoot flames independently from any part of his body would come in handy during a fight.

"You did well, kid," Clint said. He didn't like Johnny, didn't think he was anywhere near good enough for Darcy . . . but Clint couldn't help but respect him for sticking around this long with how much crap the Avengers gave him.

"I think I'll call it: Ignition," Johnny said. Then a stream of fire flew out of his pointed finger and lit Clint's hair.

As the cold flames reduced him to baldness, Clint wondered if he had been wrong all along. Anyone who had the balls to do _that_ was definitely worthy of his sister.


	47. In Which Jane Can't Stop Hunting Him

**48. Thor/Jane Foster**

Jane Foster bent over the calculations, eyes straining in the dim light as the sun set. Her glasses slid down her nose, but it would take time to push them back up; she was almost out of time now. She didn't have a single second to waste.

She held the stylus between crooked, aged fingers. The arthritis in her hands was so bad that she couldn't straighten them. Jane's veins pressed against her papery, spotted skin; they looked like miniature underground rivers that were soon to burst to the surface. Tears streamed down her cheeks, sliding through the mountain of wrinkles as if they were ravines. She didn't bother to wipe them away; Jane had stopped wasting time by drying her tears decades ago.

Jane brought the image to mind once again—the picture that kept her going. Thor, God of Thunder, wearing his regalia as he kissed her. The sunlight shone off his golden hair. He hadn't come back. She knew that he loved her; if he had been able to return, then he would have done so. That meant that Thor was counting on her to find a way to him.

She had tried. . . . Decade after decade, she had attempted to make the Einstein-Rosen Bridge work. It never did. Regardless of whatever breakthrough she made, the bridge never connected.

The numbers of the latest failure began blurring before her eyes. Jane knew that the grave was calling her. She had managed to resist it for years now, but tomorrow was her ninety-third birthday. She was starting to forget things. She would fall asleep for hours on end, no matter how badly she wanted to stay awake.

"It should've worked!" Jane screamed before collapsing back into her chair. Her gray hair slipped loose of its barrette and blocked her vision. She should have been the Queen of Asgard by now, ruling beside her husband: Thor. She should have been loved and cherished—immortal. Instead, death was circling her, the calculations were still wrong, and her beauty (what little there had been) had long since faded.

Unable to face reality while she had breath in her, Jane merely stared at the calculations one more time, praying that she would find what she needed, and whispered, "I'll make it work."


	48. In Which The Merchant Of Death Speaks

**49. Gen: Loki and Tony Stark and the Avengers**

"I should have known that it was your fault!" Clint Barton snarled. He snatched a knife off the table and threw it at Loki; Loki dodged it skillfully. "I told them not to let you join! I told them that you'd turn on all of us! Tony almost died today, because of _you_," he spat.

Tony Stark stopped at the threshold and took in the scene. The rest of the Avengers were ganging up on Loki, turning on him like a pack of cannibals against one of their own. Loki didn't say a word in his defense. He just stood there and took all of the abuse they hurled at him.

"Brother, I am most disappointed in your conduct!" Thor boomed.

When Loki's eyes flinched—and Tony hadn't even realized that was physically possible until he saw it happen—he strode into the kitchen and placed himself between Loki and the Avengers. He'd never thought of his teammates as genii, but he'd never considered them so idiotic and prejudiced in his life. After all the good that Loki had done, did they really think he would do something like this? Did they? How could Thor, of all people, believe Loki would summon the Arc Reactor out of his chest in the middle of a fight?

"This happens to you often, doesn't it?" Tony asked. His bones ached for his friend. He understood Loki better than he would ever like to. It was dangerous for two living people to have so much in common. When they were on an emotional high, they could do a wealth of good . . . but when they were low, worlds changed and lives ended.

"Tony?" Clint asked, face bewildered. He reached forward, as if he wanted to grab Tony and haul him out of the room, or at least get him as far away from Loki as he could.

"Indeed," replied Loki, voice as blank as when Tony lied and said his parents loved him and his childhood was ideal.

"He'll kill you! Get away from him!" Steve Rogers ordered. He was entirely focused on Tony, as if determined to save him. Tony reminded himself that he should appreciate the meaning behind the gesture, even as it pissed him off.

"He's not going to kill me," Tony said. It had been years since he'd seen people take such complete leave of their senses—not since Obadiah Stane. He loathed the memories they were rousing. "Are you, Loki?"

"No, I'm not," Loki answered.

"Liar," Natasha Romanoff stated.

"Yes, I am. But not about this," Loki countered.

"Murderer!" Clint spat.

That was the last straw for Tony. He was done playing nice; he was done with waiting for them to realize that the alien mage had a necklace that drew power to it, which was why the Arc Reactor had been ripped from his chest mid-battle. He was sick of waiting for them to realize that Loki was the one who had killed the mage and returned the Arc Reactor. He was tired, so very tired, of dealing with their petty, shortsighted view of the world.

Tony turned to face Natasha. "You once accused Loki of killing over eighty people in two days." She nodded sharply while glaring at Loki. Then Tony did what he had seen Loki do every day for months; he buried his emotions so deeply inside himself that not a hint of them could be glimpsed in his gaze. He resurrected the mask and persona that had died with Obie—the traitor. "I've killed thousands of people in less than two seconds," Tony whispered.

Silence fell in the kitchen.

Taking a step to the side, to block as much of Loki's body as he could, Tony grinned. He knew it wasn't a pleasant sight. The Merchant of Death never was. "I've lied. I've blackmailed. I've hacked into every database on the planet. I've _erased_ people from existence. I've annihilated an entire alien species with one bomb. I've dealt more death and destruction than you will ever live to see." Tony reached back and grabbed Loki's arm, before dragging him forward to stand beside him. "This man saved my life today. I owe him a debt. I pay my debts," Tony hissed. He tilted his head like the Velociraptors on Jurassic Park and added, "I house you. I feed you. I build your weapons. You are all in my debt."

Tony nudged Loki toward the doorway, and then stared his teammates down before saying, "Treat my friend with the respect he deserves, or I'll call them in. You won't like the consequences." He glanced over his shoulder at them; they were stunned, pale, and shaking. Thor looked like Mjolnir had just slammed into his gut. "Loki didn't do anything wrong. The only thing he's at fault for is saving my miserable life."


	49. In Which Loki Never Breaks His Word

**50. Loki/Darcy Lewis**

Loki was only eight years old when he first met Darcy; it was a unique name for a unique girl. Her eyes were the color of the waterfalls near the bifrost, and her hair was the color of the tree trunks that were bigger around than his father. Her skin was smooth and pale, like all Aesir. Yet, Darcy wasn't Aesir.

Drawn by her beauty, with childlike curiosity, Loki tried to pet her hair; it looked so soft! Instead, his hand went right through her head. "Impossible!" he declared. He tried again, but failed. "What magic is this?" he demanded to know.

"Ma'ic?" Darcy babbled. She reached chubby fingers toward him, but they passed right through his body.

"How are you doing this?" Loki asked, face scrunched. He had seen many sorcerers and mages perform for his father's amusement. None of them had been present and not-present at the same time. Was she a spirit that had wandered from Valhalla? Impossible! No one would ever wish to leave Valhalla. Then how could she be here, with him?

"Loki, what are you doing?" Freya asked.

"Talking to the girl," Loki replied. He winced at the slip of his tongue. He rushed to correct himself. "I'm speaking with the young maiden, Mother."

Freya smiled her amused smile and patted his head. "An imaginary friend already. So precocious."

Loki almost told his mother that he didn't have an imaginary friend, but bit his tongue instead. If his mother couldn't see the girl, then it was powerful magic indeed. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was a threat against Asgard. Maybe it was time to ask his father to get him a magic tutor. He would have to study most diligently to figure out how the girl had come to be not-present on Asgard, in the palace gardens, which were so fiercely protected.

Yes, he would learn magic and solve this puzzle.

Time passed as Loki studied. The young maiden wasn't always there. In fact, she would disappear for years on end. Whenever she arrived, her eyes were always haunted, as if she were desperately fighting to escape something. "Why do you come?" he asked.

"To get away. I wish myself far away," she whispered, shoulders hunched.

Loki didn't like the implications. He might only be half a century old now, but the young maiden seemed to age more slowly than he did. So she couldn't be Aesir, could she? What was she then? An elvish princess? Another type of immortal that he had yet to study? She seemed so frightened, so tired, so desperate, and the thought made him ill. Someone so innocent shouldn't fear so greatly.

The next time she came, he was confined to his bed. He'd been gravely injured on an adventure of Thor's. However, they had succeeded in their quest, so it was worth it. Her presence shocked Loki, because she hadn't visited in almost fifty years. He had almost forgotten why he had started studying magic in the first place. Not quite—because he could never forget the fragile, porcelain beauty, but almost. He was no closer to discovering how she came to be on Asgard.

"You're hurt!" Tears spilled down her cheeks. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

Loki flushed and wished he could feel it. It was the first kiss he had ever received from someone who wasn't his mother. "I'll be fine," he assured her. Her tears bothered him. The visible sign of pain and upset squeezed his heart as only Thor's emotions had managed in the past. This little immortal who was always just out of his reach had him wound around her slimming fingers.

"What's your name?" he asked, wishing he had asked it years ago.

"Darcy," she whispered, before vanishing from his bed.

Loki stroked his forehead, where her phantom kiss had landed, and whispered, "I'll find you, Darcy."

He tried. He really, really tried. Loki learned to walk the hidden, forgotten paths of Yggdrasil. He learned to cloak his presence. He hunted for the little immortal maiden—Darcy—on every planet. Loki couldn't find her.

A hundred years later, Loki stood in the garden where he had first met her. His lips ached from the sutures that kept them closed. When she materialized at his side without a sound, he looked away. He didn't want her to see him like this! After all the nights, days, and mornings that he had wished for her to return, why did it have to be during his punishment? He didn't look like a charming and handsome prince; he looked like a monster.

"I missed you," Darcy said.

Unable to turn away from her any longer, Loki faced his visitor. She was taller now, perhaps the equivalent of eight years old. Her brown hair tumbled down her back to her waist. Her shoulders were hunched as she stood beside him. Every few seconds she would lean toward him, but when her arm passed through him she winced and leaned away. It was easy to tell that she hated their lack of contact as much as he did.

Life was only bright when Darcy was with him. She wasn't something that he had to share with anyone else. She was just for him—something special and treasured. She didn't call him names or think he was a monster. She _missed_ him.

That's when Loki decided that he was going to marry her, once she grew up to a proper age and form. The kiss from her previous visit had shown affection, as had her words and gestures tonight. He planned to hoard it all for himself. But when he tried to ask her, the sutures kept his lips locked; not a single word could escape.

Loki wrote his question in the air with flames: _Will you be my wife?_

Darcy stared at the floating fire, and then craned her neck to look up at him. "I can't read that."

Of course, she couldn't read it! Why should the Norns let anything go his way? Groaning and muttering insults at the Norns in his head, Loki knelt on the grass. He reached out his left hand, placed it as close to hers as he could without ghosting through her, and then mimed sliding a ring on her finger, and then his.

Darcy scrunched her nose up. "You want to marry me?"

Pleased at her brightness, Loki nodded. She never asked him for anything. She never derided him. She never sought to harm him. She was lovely. That was more than he could expect in an arranged marriage. Why should he let his parents barter him away, when he could marry someone who actually _missed_ him? Missing him meant she cared for him, right?

"Will you promise not to hurt me?" she whispered. Darcy hunched in half and ducked her head. "Promise to keep me safe, and I'll marry you."

As Loki stared down at her cowering form, he vowed to himself that he would find out who was hurting her; the person would live long enough to regret it. Loki tried to grasp her chin and lift it, but his hand slid through her head. It did catch her attention, though. She gazed into his eyes as he nodded solemnly. Once he found her, nothing would ever hurt Darcy again.

She started to disintegrate, but Loki read her lips: _I'll marry you_.

He clung to that promise as fifty years passed. Then one hundred. He cleaved to it as one hundred and fifty years passed. Then two hundred.

While Loki waited for her to keep her side of the promise, he hunted the worlds. He delved into deeper magic, darker magic, in a desperate attempt to find her. What if whoever was hurting her had killed her? What if the light of her existence had been snuffed out, and that's why she hadn't visited him in such a long time? What if he hadn't learned enough magic, fast enough, to make a difference?

Before such thoughts could utterly consume him, Loki stormed up the observatory. He found peace in staring at the stars, as he attempted to figure out which world was hiding her. He would reach out toward the stars, imagining that he could take them in his bare hands and learn all of their secrets. As he lay there, Darcy came to him. She was blossoming into womanhood, a stunning, majestic creature worthy of a Prince of Asgard. He wasn't blind, though; it was painfully obvious that she was still too young. His wait wasn't at an end.

"I wasn't sure if you'd return," he admitted, tongue thick in his mouth with suppressed emotions. The longer she was away, the deeper he buried himself in ancient tomes of magic, alienating himself from everyone around him.

"I didn't want to stay away," Darcy replied. Tears shimmered in her eyes yet again. "I really, really missed you." She brushed them away as they fell. "Y-you never even told me your n-name," she said. Darcy sniffled and blushed, but didn't look away from him. "I was beginning to think I imagined you. . . ."

"I'm real, Lady Darcy. Very real," Loki countered. He didn't want her to think this was a lie; so many people already called him the 'Liesmith'. He wouldn't be able to bear it if she thought poorly of him. He wasn't deceiving her. Loki knew he would shatter if she despised his character and broke her promise. If anyone won her heart away from him . . . He shuddered with violence at the thought. "My name is Loki."

"Loki." Darcy spoke slowly, as if tasting his name.

It made him want to lean forward and kiss her, to inhale her scent and taste her lips. He resisted the urge, though, because Loki knew it would bring nothing but pain. She wasn't really here; she never left any physical evidence behind. It was better to deny himself than to phase through her lips without feeling their soft plumpness for himself.

"A promise is a promise, right?" Darcy asked, voice brash, but insecure.

Loki understood what she meant at once, and rushed to reassure her. "I never break my word. When you're old enough, Lady Darcy, I'll marry you and keep you safe."

Darcy peered at him from beneath her eyelashes. "As long as you never hurt me, I've decided that I'll always love you."

_Always is a long time_, Loki thought, _much too long when Darcy is out of reach_.

Between one blink and the next, she vanished again. Loki held her words close to his heart, her promise of 'love' and 'always', and used it to fight back the tide of bitterness that swelled within. He had already waited this long. What could a little longer hurt?

Only, it wasn't a little longer. It was century after century, each second of each one feeling like a century in itself. Time dragged on. Immortality was Loki's curse and his blessing.

When four hundred years passed away, and there was no sign of Darcy or her promised love, Loki's sanity started to splinter. So he plotted to destroy Thor's coronation; Thor wasn't really ready to be King of Asgard anyway. Honestly, he was doing his brother a favor. It was a favor which resulted in an attack on Jotunheim, where Loki learned that he was a monster. He was the son of King Laufey! He was a creature of nightmares. Everything was a lie. . . .

Except for the promise Darcy had made him; he couldn't believe that was false. If it were, his entire life would've been without purpose. It would've been kinder for the All Father to leave him in the temple on Jotunheim to die.

Unable to bear the thought of speaking to Odin and Freya—who had lied to him his entire life!—Loki slipped through the forgotten paths of Yggdrasil. He headed for Midgard, to gloat over Thor's banishment and to escape what he couldn't accept. He stepped out of the shadows and into a small room just as a woman said, "You're engaged? That's why you think this guy's really Thor, as in the God of Thunder? I don't believe it!" Her voice dripped scorn.

Then came the dulcet tones of the voice Loki had been hunting since he was eight years old. "He proposed to me when we were kids and I'm still waiting for the ring."

Loki's heart nigh leapt from his chest as he stared at Darcy. She was all grown up, and more stunning than ever. Did he deserve her? He wasn't a true Prince of Asgard. He was, in all honesty, a Prince of Jotunheim. He was the heir of a monster, destined to rule a realm of nightmares. However, as his heart scorched within him, triumph and pleasure beating through his veins, Loki decided that he was just enough of a monster to be unable to release her from her promise. She'd wound him around her fingers, stolen his life, and tamed his heart. It was time for her to keep her word.

His magic crafted and deposited an ornate ring into his hand as he stepped out of the shadows and said, "It's about time I fixed that oversight, Darcy. A future queen deserves an engagement ring."

Darcy gasped and spun to face him; the familiar sight of tears leaking from her eyes soothed him. "Y-you're really h-here?" she asked, hands shaking.

Loki strode forward, clasped them with his own, delighting at the ability to actually touch her. She was as warm and soft as he had imagined. The waiting, the not knowing, the loneliness—it had all been worth it for this moment. He was going to be _loved_. Before sliding the ring onto Darcy's finger and forever staking his claim, Loki stated, "A promise is always a promise."


End file.
